


sweat we shed together (it flies away as tears)

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), Produce 101 (TV), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: AND THIS ALSO ISN'T ABOUT AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting (China), Angst, Fluff, I'M SERIOUS PLEASE TAKE MY WARNINGS SERIOUSLY, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, It begins really happy believe me, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, NOT A STORY FOR THE WEAK-HEARTED, No Smut, PLEASE READ THE TAGS THOROGUHLY, POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNINGS UP AHEAD, Psychological Drama, Self-Denial, Slow Burn, THERE IS ALSO NO DICK-TOUCHING IN THIS STORY BC I'M NOT THAT TERRIBLE, Teacher-Student Relationship (but this is really not the focus of the story), There's some really cute and nice things in here though, This is about an illegal relationship... seriously, basically everyone in this story is emotionally and mentally unstable hah, mentioned Euiwoong/Hyeongseop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 115,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: Zhengting returns to China for the last year of his studies. At the request of his childhood friend, he is also assigned the role of a caretaker for her son.Huang Minghao, or more like HuangJustin, appears to be quiet. Reserved, placid, passive. Maybe even shy.Looks can be deceiving.But the only person that deceives Zhengting is himself.Over the course of one year, he receives more than he bargained for. Over the course of one year, he breaks down more walls within himself than he's ever realized he had initially.[Please read the tags. I cannot stress this enough.]





	1. 開

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE READ THE TAGS.** There's possible trigger warnings in this story (illegal relationship, internal self-abuse, abuse of alcohol) and I really, really did not write it to scare anyone or offend them. _If you've gone through a similar experience to the scenes depicted in this story (there is a lot of bitterness and complicated situations) and it was traumatizing for you, I highly recommend you do not read it just for the sake of your mental health._ This story is my take on the dynamic in a romantic _and_ platonic relationship between an adult and a teenager and the psychological effects of such a relationship. **THE EVENTS AND SUCH THAT HAPPEN IN THIS STORY DON'T ENCOMPASS ALL RELATIONSHIPS THAT FALL UNDER THIS SPECTRUM. Please don't take what's written in here and apply it to real life, this is simply a story on a POSSIBLE perspective of this kind of occurrence.**
> 
> The two main characters' ages in this story are representative to their actual ages (except I tweaked Justin's age because I AM NOT GOING TO BE WRITING ABOUT A 14/15 YEAR OLD).
> 
> THERE IS ALSO NO DICK TOUCHING IN THIS STORY. I'm not that kind of person...
> 
> I also understand that age of consent varies by country -- in China, where this story takes place, it is 14, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend it's 18. Please also take note that the legal drinking age in China is 16 (although it is illegal to sell alcohol to those below the age of 18).
> 
>  **To summarize:** This story is a tale about family. About love, relationships, friendships, happiness, purity, and compassion. But it's also about doubt, about remorse, bitterness, hurt, burden, manipulation, and deceit -- most importantly, about sin, about responsibility, right and wrong, and especially about maturity and immaturity.
> 
>  **Anyways,** past my spiel, if you've decided to keep on reading, awesome. I hope you enjoy the story I've put so much work into (started this at the beginning of summer 2017) -- really, this is a real proud work of mine. Thank you! <3 Also, special thanks to V for supporting me throughout this whole thing. I'm not going into specifics, but the themes in this work encompass a lot of difficult things for both she and I. She's a real blessing for dedicating her time to helping me with something like this.
> 
> And lastly, one last thanks for S, who edited the first few chapters of this and helped me with dialogue (because I'm kind of drifting into Hemingway's sphere, if you get my gist).
> 
> (I also once got a question on how tf you pronounce Jung Jung's Chinese name... okay, if we want to get into technicalities, his name is 朱正廷, which is Zhū Zhèng Tíng, or a straightforward way to pronounce with disregard to accents/tones is "Joo Jung Ting".)
> 
> music: luhan - 心率 (like a dream)

_start_.

* * *

**開** : _To open a new door depends solely on yourself._

* * *

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“I'm not even that great with kids, Vic. And besides, I highly doubt he remembers me.”

“Oh _come on_ , that shouldn't matter, he's close to your age. It won't be that hard.”

“...”

“Do it for me? You know how busy my schedule can get.”

“Okay, fine. Just for you.”

“Great! Thank you!”

* * *

Zhengting waits patiently next to the luggage carousel, watching the belt move as baggage is rotated through. He finds the suitcase he's looking for, one with a bright orange passenger tag standing stark against the navy blue of the bag, looped around the black handle.

When he pulls it off of the belt, an employee hurriedly rushes up to him and asks if he can hold his bag. But Zhengting brushes him off with a hasty smile, dropping his suitcase on the floor, extending the handle, and quickly walking away with a sheepish laugh and a “Sorry, but thank you for the offer.” He's not up for being caught by airport staff, especially when his flight already landed late and there's someone waiting for him.

He approaches the sliding doors at the front of the building, and when they part for him he sees who he's expecting.

“Took you long enough.”

Victoria stands right next to the doorway, her arms crossed and the toe of her left foot lifted up, as if she had been tapping her foot in impatience. She still looks the same as last time Zhengting saw her, hair slicked back into a sleek high ponytail, cleanly ironed dark gray suit tailored immaculately to fit her frame. And oh, of course, Zhengting can't forget her black pumps polished to perfection. Those heels stomped on his hand once.

“Hey.” Zhengting laughs, a wide grin spreading on his lips.

“Welcome back, Zhengting,” Victoria says, returning his smile. She holds out her arms.

Zhengting releases the handle of his suitcase. He meets her embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders, taking in a few breaths. Victoria still wears the same perfume after all these years, and the scent makes his head dizzy with nostalgia.

“Come on, my car's in the parking garage,” Victoria says, after they pull apart.

“Do you want me to pay your parking fee?” Zhengting asks, as they begin walking, “because I know my flight landed later than we expected.”

“No, it's fine,” Victoria replies. “You're going to need every bit of money you can get, and besides, I'm already asking a large favor from you.”

Zhengting smiles. “That's quite considerate and unexpected of you,” he says.

Victoria laughs at his response. “You're stretching me thin here, Zhengting.”

“I'm sorry,” Zhengting apologizes. “Just last time I saw you, things weren't going so well.”

“Business is picking up,” Victoria says, shrugging. “It's much better now. I've been able to refurnish our apartment and Minghao’s tuition is no longer a problem.”

“That's also because your ex-husband has to pay child support,” Zhengting points out.

Victoria scrunches her nose. “Oh shush, you don't need to remind me of him,” she replies. They're close to the parking garage, and Victoria presses the up button on the elevator in front of them. “Tell me stories about your time in Korea, alright? I'd like to hear about them, and it's going to be a long drive,” she says.

Zhengting lifts his wrist, glancing at the time on his watch. “Ah, I forgot about that,” he begins, “it’ll be dark by the time we get there, yeah? In Seoul you just take the subway and walk and you’d be at your destination in thirty minutes at the most.”

“It’d be nice if that happened,” Victoria laughs. “But I guess that’s the difference between countries.”

“Looks like I’ll have to re-teach myself how to drive.” Zhengting rolls his shoulders and sighs as he sees Victoria press a button on her car keys, a pair of red lights flashing up ahead of them. “Nice,” he says, as he gets a clearer view of Victoria’s car -- a jet black SUV with black tinted windows, surprisingly unscathed despite the chaotic traffic and surplus of unqualified drivers China is known for.

Victoria grins at him. “You’ll be fine,” she says, “as long as you’re not driving my car. And besides, you couldn’t have completely forgotten how to drive. It’ll come back to you easily.” She looks at him once before lifting up the latch to the trunk. “Because you’re finally home, Zhengting. And I’m glad.”

A minute later, as Zhengting slides into the passenger seat next to her, having stowed his suitcase and slammed the door to the trunk closed, he asks her, with a silly smile on his face, “Why? So you can take advantage of the fact that I’m a poor student?”

Victoria chuckles at his statement, but she shakes her head. “Well, that’s part of it,” she begins, “but also because I’ve missed you.”

Zhengting’s expression softens at her words. “I know,” he says. “I’ve missed you too, Vic.”

* * *

It’s almost two hours before they arrive at the apartment complex.

Zhengting’s told Victoria all the stories he could think of about his life in Seoul. From the difficulties he had adjusting to an almost entirely new culture and an entirely new language, to the stupid and funny blunders he’s made both in life and academically (there was a time he accidentally deleted all his lab data saved on his computer and spent the next three days and nights recreating it until he realized there was a recycle bin), to the friends he’s made and the professors that have either reconstructed hell or heaven on Earth for him.

Victoria listens wholeheartedly, nodding her head and laughing with him each minute of the way. Zhengting has forgotten how easy it was to speak with her, someone who knows all his little inside jokes and experiences because she’s been his friend ever since he was a baby. He’s recreated close bonds, secret jokes, and personal stories with the friends he’s made in Seoul, but there’s a clear difference between being friends for four years and being friends for twenty-two years.

And sometimes, Victoria is like a mom to him. An extra six years between them, and she could’ve ended up being his mom. She dotes on him, takes care of him, even goes as far as paying for some of his things like a parent (there is _absolutely no_ way he’d be able to afford his apartment if she hadn’t offered to take up part of his rent for the first few months), because that’s part of the reason they were even acquainted in the first place. Victoria was his caretaker (for his parents worked ungodly hours in order to support their family), starting when he was a baby and she a kid all the way until she married at the tender age of eighteen, had a child at barely nineteen, and moved away to Shanghai at the age of twenty-two, leaving a ten year-old Zhengting lonely, but not forgotten, in their small town at the very southern tip of Guangdong.

She wanted to escape to a large city, partially because her husband had been a semi-wealthy businessman and partially because she wanted to make a name for herself, some way or the other, escaping the confinement of a place where no major opportunities are to be given. Zhengting had similar intentions -- he painstakingly worked his way up to be able to study abroad in Korea after high school only a semester late, with the goal of acquiring a degree in biological sciences and a minor in education. Maybe he’ll become a famous professor one day, he doesn’t know, but he thinks teaching is an appropriate path for him. He’s come back to China for his last year of his studies, for Victoria had managed to snag him an opportunity to work in her friend’s lab at Tianjin University right out of college, contingent on that they’d be able to observe his work and the findings he makes during his studies.

He’s forever grateful to her, in more ways than he can think of off of the top of his head. Victoria is gracious, and she only requested a few favors in return.

The sky is already dark, colored an almost-black blue when he steps out of Victoria’s car, the lamps lining the sidewalk already having come alive with their bright yellow glow up ahead.

“Here’s your keys,” Victoria says. She places two silver keys in his palm, one of them rusted with a red marker X written on both sides of its face while the other is shiny and sleek -- brand new. “The one with the red X is yours. I picked it up from your landlord this morning. Unit 103. The other one is a copy of my key. I’m on the floor right above you, unit 117. Your dad helped me move furniture the other day, so there’s no need to worry where you’ll sleep. He said he’ll drop off the old sedan sometime the following week, so you’re going to have to walk or take the bus for now.”

“Victoria…” Zhengting begins, a concerned smile spreading on his lips, “you’re doing too much.”

“The only thing you have to say is ‘thank you’, you know,” she replies, patting him on the shoulder.

Zhengting laughs at her reaction. It’s classic of her to take praise elegantly. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re great.”

“I know,” she replies, and grins. “Come on, unpack and take a look at your new place.”

It’s sparse, Zhengting’s new apartment. But it’s more than he ever had in his dorm in Seoul. A single bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. He doesn’t have to share any of those with another person, and in terms of furniture there is only the basic necessities in each of the rooms. It’s a strange feeling to him, being in a much larger, open space than he’s used to -- a space just for himself. If he were to yell down the hallway, he feels like his voice would echo.

Victoria waits at the doorway, her back leaning against the wall, arms folded. “Tell me when you’re done,” she says, and Zhengting nods.

He’s only unpacked his pajamas, clothes for tomorrow, and toiletries before appearing back around the corner of the hallway. He doesn’t want to keep Victoria waiting, especially since it’s late at night and despite what she says, she’s clearly exhausted.

“Follow me,” she says, and Zhengting complies.

She leads him outside his new home and up the stairs at the side of the complex until they’re standing in front of a dark gray door with the numbers “117” written in gold plating across the front. Victoria unlocks the door, letting herself and Zhengting in, before closing it behind them. “Wait here,” she says. “Minghao, I’m home! Come over here, there’s someone you should see.”

She disappears down the hallway, and for a minute or two Zhengting doesn’t hear anything. Until there’s the sound of feet walking back down the hall, the clicking of Victoria’s heels against the tile as well as the shuffling of another person’s footsteps. Then there’s a hushed, “Mom, I told you not to call me that,” before Zhengting hears Victoria huffing.

Victoria reappears, her hands placed on the shoulders of a boy. He’s very obviously young, judging by his face, his cheeks still rounder, lips fuller, and eyes wide and open. His hair is a light brown color, contrasting sharply with Victoria’s jet black, and even despite his baggy clothing, Zhengting can see that his frame is similar to hers in the aspect that they’re both thin, almost willow-like -- an elegant kind of slenderness, like the grace of a swan when it spreads its wings and cranes its neck to the sky.

Although his head is level, his gaze is down at the floor. His eyes flit up when he sees Zhengting standing at the door. The expression on his face hasn’t changed from being placidly neutral, but there is an interested, curious gleam to his pupils.

Zhengting hasn’t seen him physically ever since he was a toddler, in photos since he was barely a kid, and Zhengting himself was a hardly a teenager. His memories are vague. They’re almost like strangers, meeting each other for the first time.

“This is Zhu Zhengting,” Victoria says, looking up at the boy. “Do you remember him, Minghao?”

Now that they stand hardly a meter away from each other, Zhengting can see that he is tall. Very tall, maybe only a few centimeters shorter than Zhengting himself, and the bottom half of Victoria’s face disappears over his shoulder.

“No,” the boy replies quietly. He stares at Zhengting for a second, before his eyes flit away, looking at something to the side.

“He used to play with you when you were little,” Victoria says. She smiles, rubbing the boy’s shoulders. “Come on, smile. Say something nice.”

The boy looks up at Zhengting again. “Hello,” he says, his voice faint. He doesn’t crack a smile, but he doesn’t look unhappy either. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Zhengting replies, gently. The corners of his lips lift up, partially because he doesn’t want to seem unfriendly and partially because for some reason, the action just came to him naturally. “It’s nice to meet you too. What’s your name?”

“Huang Justin,” the boy replies.

 _Justin?_ Zhengting blinks, confused for a moment. But Victoria seems to notice, and she smiles and nods slightly at him, indicating to him that she’ll explain later.

“Zhengting’s been my friend for a very long time. We’ve known each other since before you were born. He will be taking care of you during the school year when I’m not home, okay?” she says, reaching up to brush away a lock of Justin’s hair. “If you need anything, just ask him. He’s going to be living below us, in unit 103.”

“Okay,” Justin murmurs.

Victoria pats his arm. “You can go now,” she says, and Justin turns, his feet quietly but quickly moving across the tile until he disappears into the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria says, when she’s made sure he’s out of earshot. “He’s shy.”

Zhengting laughs softly for a second, because in all honesty, Justin reminded him of himself when he was younger. Reserved, quiet. Except Zhengting was that way because there were too many things for him to think about in his mind, to the point where he ended up being stuck inside his own head more often than not. “It’s alright,” he replies. “This must be an odd situation for him.”

Victoria sighs, and runs a hand through her hair. “I can’t do anything about it,” she murmurs, “my schedule keeps me at work into the night more often than not, and sometimes I’m not even in the country for a week or longer. I feel like I’m neglecting him.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Zhengting reassures. He places a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It’s not easy being a single mother and simultaneously running your own business. And besides--” he puts on his lightest, airiest smile, “I’m glad to help you in any way I can.”

Victoria looks up at him, and she returns his smile. Her expression is grateful, almost sorrowfully so. “Thank you, Zhengting.”

“Of course.”

“Would you like some tea? Before you leave,” she asks.

Zhengting nods. “If it’s no trouble,” he says. “I still have some things I need to do before I go to sleep, and the caffeine will be useful.”

Victoria moves into her kitchen, removing a pot from the cupboard and placing it in the sink to fill with water. Zhengting leans against the counter, watching her quietly.

“You didn’t tell me he was so tall, Vic,” he says.

Victoria laughs at his statement. “What? He’s a growing boy. I’m tall for a woman, so I’m not surprised he’s tall too.”

“How old is he again?”

“Sixteen.”

“Oh wonderful,” Zhengting mutters, “those rebellious teenage years. I’m going to have a lot of fun.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “I don’t think he’s that bad,” she says. There’s a few moments of silence, where the only sound in the room is the continuous one of water filling a steel pot.

“Oh yeah,” Zhengting begins. “Why is his name all of a sudden ‘Justin’?”

Victoria snorts, but she changes it into a cough at the last moment. “Sorry,” she quickly apologizes, but Zhengting started laughing a long time ago.

“His father took him to America for the summer a long time ago. Another kid he met there couldn’t pronounce his name, so he just called him ‘Justin’. Minghao was an impressionable little child, and his father liked the name too, so I suppose it stuck.”

“Then why do you still call him ‘Minghao’, even though he insists on ‘Justin’?” Zhengting asks.

Victoria looks up from the sink. Her voice has turned quiet, her tone serious. “Because that’s the name _I_ gave him,” she says.

The only syllable that comes out of Zhengting’s mouth next is “oh”. It’s not because he’s uncomfortable, or he thinks her answer is strange. No, it’s because he understands quite well where Victoria is coming from.

Victoria’s ex-husband had given her many beautiful things in her life when they were together: money, a comfortable living, her son, but most importantly, an opportunity to escape from her cage -- an opportunity to flourish. Yet, he’d also simultaneously given her things that were not so pleasant: an unhappy marriage that happened much too early, born out of a superficial and shallow relationship, and a perpetual loneliness from being isolated from all the people that mattered to her. Zhengting can even see it in Victoria now, that raw and unforgiving emotion, years after she and her ex-husband had been separated.

Victoria is someone who pushes away her unhappiness by refusing to think about the things that make her unhappy, and instead focusing on the important matters at hand.

Yet, her unhappiness will never leave her, for Justin carries his father’s last name. His facial structure is similar to his father’s, even though his body may physically be closer to his mother’s.

The name _Minghao_ is one of the few things Victoria can hold onto tightly and simultaneously associate with her son and say, _Yes, that is my son. He is mine, born out of my own flesh and blood._

* * *

Four days later, on the weekend, both the things Zhengting had flown back to him from Korea and his dad with their family’s old sedan appear at his doorstep.

“Dad--” Zhengting says, before he's crushed in a giant hug by his father.

“My son, you're back,” his father chokes into his shoulder. “I'm so proud,” he whispers, “I'm so proud. You've gone so far.”

Zhengting has to laugh and remind his father that he hasn't even graduated yet. But his father still sheds a grateful tear, because there's rarely anyone that makes it out of their town by themselves. Families live there for generations and generations. You move there if you cannot go anywhere else, confined to the choices of a fisherman's life, a factory worker, machinery operator, or heaven forbid, a farm peasant. Zhengting and Victoria are two odd cases, he says. Victoria has gone further in life than anyone he's ever met--he looks up to her like he looks up to God--and the fact that Zhengting managed to wheedle his way into one of China's best universities despite his paltry upbringing was and still is a shock to him.

But Zhengting pats his old man on the back, makes him a cup of silver needle leaf tea, and tells him to rest as he unpacks his boxes.

There's only three boxes, because there's only so much you can fit in a dorm room. There's the rest of his clothing in one. His school materials in the other. His little accessories and knick knacks in another. At the top of the third box, there's a large cloth bag that Zhengting doesn't remember packing. When he opens it, a blue piece of paper falls out. It's a note from some of the boys he shared a dorm with back in Seoul.

_Hi Jung Jung!_

_When you're reading this we hope you're okay! We already miss you. It's going to be so weird without you in the dorms._

_Seunghyuk is already struggling, he doesn't have a Chinese partner anymore. But I think he will be okay in a week. Hyeongseop is treating your departure like your death, with a funeral and everything. I told him to stop, but he's still wearing black every day…_

_Anyway, I really miss you too, but I'm not weird like my hyungs. Who's going to be the third person I have to wake up in the morning? Or the person that helps me fix the lightbulb in the bathroom that's always broken because the other two are basically useless? Hmm._

_We thought you might miss us too, so we packed you some of your favorite foods, because you might not be able to get them in China. Hopefully we got everything! Please enjoy them!_

_And remember, don't forget to send messages and pictures! Come visit sometime too, okay?_

_Love,_

_Lee Euiwoong, Choi Seunghyuk, & Ahn Hyeongseop. _

Zhengting smiles. It's obviously written by Euiwoong, the handwriting formatted and neat. But as he looks inside the bag, it's clearly packed by Seunghyuk and Hyeongseop. There's at least one of every single type of snack food Zhengting can vaguely remember he said he likes. They're all piled together, with no particular attention paid to putting chip bags and ramen on the top and keeping the coffee cans and cookie tins at the bottom. But Zhengting doesn't care, because this is the most heartwarming thing he's seen in a long time, and he takes a picture of himself with the box and posts it to both his Kakao story and his Weibo.

His father walks in later, sees his son sitting in the middle of a pile of snacks, and promptly walks out, muttering to himself, “Why did I offer to let him take the car when he spends all his money on junk food?”

It's almost dinnertime when Zhengting has finished sorting through everything and driven a few laps around his new neighborhood to make sure he still can keep control of a vehicle at a bare 15 km/h. Victoria has returned home, and she pops down to Zhengting’s unit to offer to cook him and his father dinner. It's not so much an offer, Zhengting realizes, as he opens his mouth to decline, but is interrupted when she says, “Okay, be up here in thirty minutes.”

When his father sees her, he gets almost just as emotional as he had when he saw his son.

“Song Qian!” he cries.

“Hey, Uncle Zhu,” Victoria says, grinning, and she allows him to hug her with the same ferocity he had Zhengting. “Long time no see.”

“My Song Qian,” Zhengting’s father says, after releasing her from his hold, “you're still as beautiful as ever.”

“Aw, thank you,” Victoria replies. “And you still give the best hugs in the world.”

Zhengting’s father laughs. The sound vibrates around the room, his voice rich and hearty.

Victoria tells them to relax while she finishes cooking. Zhengting and his father sit next to each other on the couch, the sports channel on the TV turned on but neglected as Zhengting relays some of the stories about his life in Seoul and his flight back home to his father.

It's when Victoria announces she's placed the last plate on the table and the food only needs a few minutes to cool does she mutter, “Hmm, it's about time he comes out of his room.”

She walks down the hallway after rinsing her hands, Zhengting and his father both watching her form disappear in front of their turned heads.

And a minute or two later, she reappears, her hands placed on her son's shoulders like the first night Zhengting arrived at his apartment.

“Ah, this must be little Minghao,” Zhengting’s father says. “Or, not so little anymore. You've grown quite well! You're just as tall as my boy!” He stands up, grinning at Justin, who still looks as indifferent as the last time Zhengting saw him, and approaches him.

“This is Uncle Zhu. He's Zhengting’s father,” Victoria says. “Say hi.”

“Hello,” Justin says, softly. His meeker tone is a stark contrast to the bellowing voice of Zhengting’s father.

“Hello!” Zhengting’s father says. He extends a hand, and Justin stares at it for a moment, as if confused, before tentatively taking it.

And when Zhengting’s father shakes his hand vigorously like he's shaking a pair of maracas, the look on Justin's face is absolutely shocked. His arm looks like it's a rope, flailing loosely in Zhengting’s father's grip.

Zhengting can't help but smile at the sight. He turns away his head, because he feels like he might break out in laughter at any moment.

Zhengting’s father lets go of Justin's hand a few long seconds later. Victoria ushers them to the dining table, before nodding at Zhengting and saying, “You too.”

The adults chatter a lot while they eat, and Justin disappears some time after finishing his food, as Zhengting thinks he's probably uninterested. It's mostly Victoria and Zhengting’s father babbling, because his father is fascinated by the way Victoria has been able to carve out a life after the rough patch that was her whole marriage, from beginning to end -- and the vain side of Victoria can't help but oblige in stories of herself.

It's the same thing after dinner, when Zhengting and his father hold cups of tea in their palms while Victoria balances a glass of wine between her index and middle finger. But somewhere in the conversation the focus had been switched to Zhengting, about his academics and his plans for the future.

“I don't know why this boy took a minor in education,” his father says. “Isn't that a pretty useless field compared to something more applicable to your major, like genetics?”

Zhengting shrugs. “I want to be a professor,” he says, “I think that suits me better than a straight up researcher. I'd like to give talks all over the world one day.”

Zhengting’s father leans back on the couch, sighs, and says, “If you say so.”

Victoria quickly switches the subject, asking what Zhengting anticipates for his final year. He shrugs and answers, “I don't know. More research, more papers, more presentations? I know they'll make me teach a class or something too, since I have a focus in education.”

“That'll be fun, you’ll get to deal with the freshmen,” Victoria replies, sarcastically, and Zhengting laughs. He then asks his father how things had been going in Beijing, as both his parents recently moved using the money he sent them periodically after he'd left for Korea. They're still the same economic class as before, his father a taxi driver and his mother a seamstress.

His father's eyes light up, as he recalls how a few weeks ago he got to see Fan Bingbing in the flesh while driving by a club. “Any other celebrities you've seen?” Victoria asks, laughing, and Zhengting’s father is more than happy to proudly divulge all of his stories.

It's several minutes later, as Zhengting’s father is going off about giving a ride to Han Geng, that Zhengting notices something out of the side of his vision.

He turns his head, and at the corner of the wall, right before it splits into the hallway, is Justin. He's got his body wrapped around the wall in a way that Zhengting can only see his torso and above.

Zhengting doesn't know how long he's been there. But he assumes it's at least a fair amount of time, because there's that curious look in Justin's eye again as he watches Zhengting’s father ramble on and off, oblivious to Zhengting staring at him.

But then Justin's gaze switches, and he notices Zhengting looking at him. A small “oh” forms on his lips as he blinks, surprised.

Zhengting doesn't know exactly what to do, so the only things he does is what comes automatically to him.

The corners of his lips lift into a relaxed smile, and he raises his hand in a small wave. He mouths, “Hello.”

Justin stares for a few seconds, before he takes one of his hands off of the wall and shyly returns Zhengting’s wave. His fingers wiggle a bit, the movement mildly awkward.

And then a second later, a soft smile appears on his face, as Zhengting’s widens.

* * *

“Minghao, you can’t keep on being like this all the time.”

“Huh?” Justin glances over from where he’s rummaging in his closet. His mother is standing at the doorway to his bedroom, her hip leaning against the frame as she looks at him, clearly worn out.

“Have you gone over and talked to him yet?” she asks. “Like I told you to?”

“No,” Justin replies.

Victoria sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You’re going to have to sometime soon, you know. For one, it’s rude to ignore him, and two, it’s going to be harder for both you and him later on if you don’t acquaint yourselves first.”

Justin looks away, staring at the crowded hangers in his closet for a moment before pulling out one of his many shirts. “I’m already used to living alone, mom,” he says, eyeing up and down the piece of clothing before putting it back in his closet.

“I know that,” Victoria begins, “but what are you going to do when the school year comes? How are you going to get to school when I’m gone? You can’t just rely on Sicheng’s family for the whole year. Who’s going to cook? Buy the groceries? Help you with school work?”

Justin stays silent, staring straight ahead into his closet.

“Zhengting is nice,” Victoria says. “I know you probably think I’m old and crazy, but he’s not. He’s young too, just like you. You guys probably have more in common than you think.”

She walks up to Justin, and places a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows, you guys could be best friends in a few years.” When Justin’s face scrunches up into an uncomfortable smile, she laughs. “I know that sounds weird. Yes, anyone who is friends with your mother is probably strange to you,” she says. “But just trust me, alright? Go and say hi to him tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Justin agrees.

Victoria smiles. She stands on her toes, placing a hand on Justin’s head, and gives him a small kiss on his forehead. “Good night, Minghao. Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

After Victoria leaves, Justin takes another look in his closet. He pulls out another one of his shirts, but he puts it back and sighs, because it’s too wrinkled.

* * *

The next day, Zhengting is underneath his dining table trying to find the proper orientation for his laptop charger to be able to fit in the electrical socket. He flips the cable head’s prongs one way, and it won’t plug -- the opposite way, and it doesn’t plug either. He sighs, and settles for trying to jam the outlet until there’s a knock at his door. Zhengting sits up suddenly from his crouched position, and he bangs his head on the bottom of the table.

But he closes his eyes for a moment, willing away the stars in his vision and the throbbing in his head, and pushes himself out of the confinement of his table. Standing up, his knees are wobbly, but he still manages to hobble to the door.

“H-Hello,” Zhengting stutters, when he opens the door, because the sunlight from outside hurts his head and he sees white at the corners of his vision.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing Justin asks, as he stares at Zhengting, puzzled. “I heard a… crash,” he says.

“Yes,” Zhengting replies, squinting, “I just hit my head on the table, that’s all. Do you need anything?”

Justin takes a step back. “Uh, no,” he replies, “I just wanted to say hi.” His arms are bent, hands held in front of his torso like he’s unsure what to do with them.

“Victoria told you to come down here, didn’t she?” Zhengting asks, and Justin nods.

Zhengting breaks out in laughter. He has to hold himself against the side of his doorframe in order to prevent himself from falling over because he still feels a little bit disoriented. It’s a completely classic Victoria thing to do, really. She probably pushes her son around the same way she pushes Zhengting around.

“You can come inside, you know,” Zhengting says, after his breathing has mostly returned back to normal and he notices Justin is standing there silently. Hesitant. He moves to the side, allowing the boy to pass him, and tells him that _yes_ , he _is_ allowed to sit on the couch when he just stands there in Zhengting’s entryway.

Zhengting resumes his struggles with his laptop charger. “What’s your favorite subject in school?” he asks, sighing when he finally manages to plug the damn thing into the socket. This time, he moves carefully, making sure he’s out of range of the table when he rises.

“Math, or science, I guess,” Justin replies. He’s got his chin sitting on his hands that are resting atop of Zhengting’s sofa, while he watches the latter move around.

“Is that true, or is that what your mom says should be true?” Zhengting asks.

“Huh?”

Zhengting pauses his movements, and smiles. “I’ve known Victoria for a long time,” he begins, “but at the same time I was a high schooler like you only a short while ago. I know how ugly calculus is.”

Justin’s gaze flits up for a second. He looks surprised at what Zhengting’s just said, but his expression quickly returns to how it’d been previously. “Okay,” he replies. “Well, math isn’t that great. I’m okay with science. But there isn’t any subject I really like, they’re all the same to me.”

“Not even gym?” Zhengting asks. “That was my favorite when I was in high school. Mostly because I was pretty terrible at everything else.”

“We don’t have gym class,” Justin replies.

“Oh?” Zhengting raises his head, having stopped fiddling with the settings on his laptop for a moment. “Where do you go?”

“Tianjin Nankai.”

Zhengting takes a breath. “Whoo, that’s pretty elite,” he says. _No wonder Victoria mentioned she struggled to pay for her son’s tuition._ At this point, though, Zhengting probably could’ve guessed where Victoria wanted to put her son. Nankai isn’t exactly known for being cheap, but they’re most definitely known for graduating students that go on to become famous writers, university presidents, or even the country’s political leaders. “That’s right next to the university, isn’t it?” Zhengting asks.

“Yes,” Justin replies. “It’s on the university campus, actually. Because they are connected.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Zhengting hums. He wouldn’t have to make a round trip if he needs to pick Justin up. Briefly, he wonders -- how early did Victoria put her son in the system? The Tianjin education course ran from kindergarten all the way to the university level. He doesn’t remember exactly when Victoria decided to make the trip even further north from Shanghai to Tianjin, but it had to be sometime after she’d divorced her ex-husband.

“You’re studying at the university?” Justin asks.

Zhengting nods. “Guess I might see you on campus,” he says. A few seconds pass as Zhengting tries to guess his router’s password. It’s one of seven options he remembers, but it’s not any of the first three he’s tried so far.

“My mom says you just came back from Korea,” Justin murmurs.

“Yeah,” Zhengting replies, “I was a student in Seoul for several years.”

“Is that box from there?” Justin asks. Zhengting looks up, wandering over to where the boy’s kneeling on his couch, because he can’t see over the top of the faux suede.

He’s pointing to the box that had all of Zhengting’s extra items. But they’ve now been moved out, and the only things remaining are the food Zhengting’s friends packed for him, the cloth bag gone and items now organized in the box like they should be -- with coffee cans and cookie tins on the bottom and chip bags and ramen on the top.

“Yup,” Zhengting says. “My friends sent me that stuff.” He walks around his couch and kneels down, digging his hands through the box until he’s found what he’s looking for. “Do you like lemonade?” he asks.

“I guess,” Justin replies.

Zhengting grabs a small green pouch from the box. He tosses it to Justin, who catches it with his eyes wide and palms splayed open, as if he’d been completely caught off-guard by Zhengting’s action.

“Take it,” Zhengting says.

“Jellyday?” Justin asks, staring down at the logo. “Vitamin C?” Those are the only two phrases he can read, as the rest of it’s in Korean.

Zhengting laughs at his confused expression. “It’s lemon candy, but it’s a candy with vitamin C inside it. That way, your mother won’t get angry at me for giving you sweets, because they’re supposed to be vitamins too.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. He looks up at Zhengting, who’s still grinning at him, before cracking a small smile and giggling clumsily, his voice coming out in small huffs that he covers with his fingers. “Thank you, Zhu--”

“Just ‘Zhengting’ is alright. Skip the formality, I don’t need it,” Zhengting replies.

“Oh, then thank you, Zhengting,” Justin says, and Zhengting just smiles, says, “No problem,” and pats the kid on his shoulder as he passes by.

Justin’s head turns as Zhengting walks. He watches him move into the kitchen.

“Water? Tea?” Zhengting asks, as he’s found his pot and is currently setting it down in the sink.

“Tea is okay,” Justin replies, Zhengting nods, humming as he flips on his faucet and turns around, reaching into one of his cupboards where he stores his loose leaf tea. When he turns around, he sees Justin still looking at him, his chin placed on his hands resting atop the sofa like before -- except this time, his left hand dangles down the side of the sofa, in its grasp the pouch of Jellyday Zhengting had given him.

“How do you know my mom?” he asks, suddenly.

“Victoria never told you about me?” Zhengting responds. In the time that he remained in China after Justin had been born, Victoria had never kept the aspects of her son’s life a secret from him -- her husband, yes, but never her son. So it’s a little odd to Zhengting, when Justin shakes his head _no_ and murmurs, “Not a lot,” that Victoria didn’t at least tell stories of her long-time friend.

“Our families lived in the same neighborhood,” Zhengting begins, as he walks over to take a seat next to Justin, having set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame, “and our parents worked in the same factory. She took care of me ever since I was a baby when my parents weren’t home, and I guess being around each other all the time made us really good friends.” Zhengting sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while his hands come together. “She got to see me grow up. I got to see her grow up a bit too. Got to see her fall in love, marry, and have you. You know, although you probably don’t remember--I hardly do myself--I played with you a few times before your family moved to Shanghai. There might even be photos; actually, I do remember one.”

“Really?” Justin asks. “My mom doesn’t talk a lot about her life before she divorced my dad.”

Well, that makes sense to Zhengting. “Do you know the photo album that your mother keeps, the one that’s a marbled green binder?” he asks.

“With the button clip?” Just replies.

Zhengting nods. “Do you know where it is?”

And without him asking, Justin just stands up. “Yes,” he says, “do you want me to go and get it?”

“Yeah.”

The boy returns a few minutes later, the exact binder Zhengting described grasped in his hands. It’s still in the same pristine condition since Zhengting last saw it several years ago, except this time there’s a new layer of dust over it.

Justin places it in Zhengting’s lap and sits back down in his previous position as Zhengting flips the cover open. He runs through the pages one by one -- there’s not a lot of photos, to say the least, maybe one or two per page. They’re all of Victoria and her then-family, of she with her timelessly elegant looks and her ex-husband’s perfectly gelled hair and flashy grin. There’s Justin in some of them too. Full family photos, photos of him and one parent, photos of he by himself.

But then Zhengting gets to the page he’s looking for. There’s only one photo on it, right in the center.

It’s an old photo, based upon the quality of the image, slightly blurry and overexposed. It’s a photo of a nine year-old Zhengting holding up the wrists of a three year-old Justin standing in front of him. Zhengting is laughing, his teeth flashing to the camera, while Justin looks straight into the lens, an oblivious expression on his face as his arms are extended in a V-shape above his head.

“That’s you,” Justin murmurs, and Zhengting nods. “My mom showed me this picture once,” Justin says. “I asked her who you were, and she said you were the person whom she admired most in the world, but she never told me your name.”

“Admired?” Zhengting blinks. Why in the world Victoria would admire him, he doesn’t know. It’s much more like the other way around. “I don’t know what I have that she could admire,” he laughs, “but I suppose now you know who that boy in the photo is.”

And for some reason or the other, Justin seems to be fascinated by the stories Zhengting tells him about when he and Victoria were younger. He hangs onto Zhengting’s every word, looking up at him with a subtle kind of awe in his eyes--as if he’d discovered something new and bright--and would occasionally slip a Jellyday into his mouth.

Zhengting tells him stories about himself too, when he was a kid, like that one time he’d accidentally stolen a bike because it looked just like the one he had, to his just-recent college years, like that one time he got mistaken for some kid’s father at the grocery store because he happened to be the nearest adult to the eight year-old throwing a tantrum in the middle of the dairy aisle.

It’s deep into the evening when Victoria knocks on Zhengting’s door, having been unable to find her son after she returned home. She’s shocked when she sees Justin’s head sticking up from over the couch in the background when Zhengting opens the door.

“How long has he been here?” she asks.

“I don’t know, maybe two or three hours?” Zhengting replies.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Well, good.”

“Do you want him back?”

“No, you may keep my son and raise him as your own,” Victoria says, bluntly. But she giggles a second after, because she notices the absolutely bewildered look on Zhengting’s face -- she said it with such realistic seriousness Zhengting believed her for a moment. “Yes, of course,” she says, after her fits of laughter are gone, “it’s just about dinnertime, and I don’t want to burden you.”

Justin is released back to his mother, and Zhengting has to turn his face away so Victoria doesn’t see the hand he’s clamped over his mouth to prevent his laughter from spilling out. The boy walks up to her with one hand behind his back -- the hand grasping the pouch of Jellyday Zhengting had given him. He moves past her breezily, switching the side of his body that’s hiding the candy easily.

Victoria looks at Zhengting oddly when he’s smiling stupidly at her as he waves goodbye and closes his door, but she shrugs it off.

“You had fun, didn’t you, Minghao?” she asks, as she and Justin walk up the stairs to the their unit.

“Yeah, I guess,” Justin replies.

“See?” Victoria says. “He’s a nice guy.”

“He’s quite alright,” Justin says, quietly. His mother is still oblivious to the candy held in his right hand.

* * *

The following week, Zhengting meets with Victoria's friend, the one who offered him his opportunity -- a professor in the university's School of Life Sciences, and therefore the person who would ultimately decide the direction of his career after graduation. He's nervous, but the calm and collected smile the lady gives him eases some of his tension.

“Liu Yiyun,” she says, extending a hand to Zhengting, “but like Victoria, you’ll see people refer to me with my English name Amber.”

Zhengting takes her hand, shaking it firmly. “Zhu Zhengting,” he says. “It's great to meet you, Professor Liu.”

Professor Liu asks him about his direction in research -- what he had been working on while in Korea. And then his classes and where he wants to end up five or fifteen years in the future.

She laughs when Zhengting says he admires Zhou Guangzhao, the famous physics professor who later on went to become the president of China's Academy of Sciences. “I would gladly hand over my teaching responsibilities to you if I could,” she says. “I much prefer my research. Grading papers is not my thing. I think my old TA got fed up with reminding me that I still have to look over papers that require more in-depth feedback than what he could supply.”

Zhengting asks if they had an opening for a TA any of the department's professors.

“You see, that's what I was thinking about,” Professor Liu begins, propping up her elbows on her desk and leaning forward. “I wanted to take you on as my assistant at the beginning, because my previous guy graduated last semester and I would still love to have someone else helping me grade and lesson plan while I'm at it.” She smiles at the thought. “But I know the education majors don't teach college classes. That's partially because they generally don't have a strong specialty, and also because most of them are looking into teaching primary school. But I know that's not your case, and education is your minor. However, the other thing I was worried about is that you're not a graduate student. Teaching university classes, even the freshman levels, prioritizes people who are pursuing their master’s or doctorate.”

“Wait,” Zhengting begins, “then what am I supposed to do?”

Professor Liu sits back. “I suppose, if there are no openings, they'll put you in Nankai. And you'll help one of the teachers there. Your focus is in biological sciences, right?”

Zhengting nods. He mentally grimaces. All the while, he'd expected he’d have to deal with freshmen, just like Victoria said… but this time around, he's unsure of _which_ freshmen. Would he prefer the eighteen year-old kids that are too cocky for their own good or the fifteen year-old kids who mostly haven't yet begun to shed their childish immaturity and obnoxiousness?

“In that case, you'd be the TA for one of the biology teachers there,” Professor Liu says. “Zhengting, don't look so distraught,” she adds, when she notices the way he is silently staring at the coffee cup on her desk, as if contemplating where his life was going. “I know quite a few of the teachers. They're very knowledgeable and kind people, most of them graduated from here as well. The kids aren't bad too, they're as respectful as kids can get.”

Zhengting laughs half-heartedly. “Ah,” he murmurs, “this is quite unexpected.” He's stuck for words -- what's he supposed to say? If Victoria were here, he'd probably latch onto her and complain, but sadly that's not the case.

“I'm sorry it's not exactly what you anticipated to hear today,” Professor Liu says. “But it's not guaranteed you'll be working in Nankai -- there's still a possibility you'll be put in a university class as well. We've just got to wait and see what happens.”

“Yes, you're right,” Zhengting murmurs.

Professor Liu smiles. “Besides, I like your previous work. Victoria would not have recommended you for no reason. At this rate, by this time next year you can expect to call yourself the newest member of my lab team.”

Zhengting returns her smile. It's all the reason why he's here, back in China in the first place. It's so he wouldn't have an uncertain future right out of school. He could start working right away to pay back his student debts and support himself and his parents who would soon be too old and worn to work. And it's all because of the kindness of two people.

He's going to have to teach kids, one way or the other.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity,” he says. “I don't know if I've said that before. But I am very appreciative of the chance you're giving me, Professor Liu.”

Professor Liu’s smile widens, and she takes a sip of her coffee. “It's absolutely no problem,” she says. “Besides, it's my job to raise students to their best potentials.”

She leans over, and looks Zhengting in the eye. “Don't worry about it. Just focus on your studies. And hey,” she laughs, “if you're going to sign up for Mammalogy 438, I'm your professor.”

Zhengting smiles, although he chuckles a bit because Mammalogy is way out of his range of knowledge.

* * *

“How’s the teacher? Is she hot?”

Euiwoong punches Hyeongseop in the ribcage. The latter folds in half, groaning, and he disappears out of the screen as Zhengting assumes he’s probably fallen off the couch and is wallowing in pain on the floor. He laughs too, because Hyeongseop’s moans sound comical and exaggerated, probably vying for pity, but Euiwoong’s already given all of his away a long, long time ago.

“Christ, hyung, is that all you can ask? If she’s _hot_?” Euiwoong looks down, probably at his friend. “When Jung Jung here now has to help teach kids?”

“Well, I mean, she’s pretty--” Zhengting begins, but the look Euiwoong shoots him tells him it’s best he shut up and not divulge details to Hyeongseop.

A second later, there’s a mass of black hair engulfing the bottom half of the screen before a pair of raised eyebrows and wide eyes appears as well. Euiwoong coughs in the background. “What’s her name?” Hyeongseop asks, staring intently through the camera.

“Wu Xuanyi,” Zhengting answers.

There’s a scrabbling noise in the microphone as Hyeongseop disappears, the volume of his voice lowering and the sound distant, as if he were somewhere in the background. “How in the world do you spell that? I forgot which characters…”

“You know, the mouth on top and _tian_ on bottom for ‘Wu’--” Zhengting begins, but he’s interrupted by Euiwoong.

“Hyuuuung, you can search her later! The point of me video calling Jung Jung was so we could catch up, not so you could fawn over some woman you’re probably never going to meet in your life,” Euiwoong says.

Hyeongseop mutters something, but his voice is too distant for Zhengting to hear clearly.

Euiwoong sticks his tongue out. He laughs at second later, and turns back around to face the camera. “So have you actually started your teaching assistant duties yet?” he asks.

Zhengting shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve only met the teacher. But I’m supposed to start next Wednesday, because that’s when all of her lesson plans for me will be ready.”

It’s three weeks into the school year, and Zhengting found out that there were more than enough graduate students to fill all of the department’s TA slots two weeks ago. His counselor had patted him on the back, and told him he was assigned to help afternoons for Wu Xuanyi’s biology class at Nankai.

“Fun,” Euiwoong comments, and Zhengting rolls his eyes.

“How’re your classes going?” he asks.

Euiwoong grins. “Great, actually,” he says. “Everything’s super easy, I feel another 4.0 rolling in for me.”

Hyeongseop, somewhere in the background, yells, “Stop gloating! We’re not even a fourth of the way through the semester!”

Euiwoong laughs, shaking his head. “It’s only because poli-sci is an easy major,” he says. “Or, well, at least, the subjects in it are easy. Writing, sociology, communications, government, history…”

“Euiwoong,” Zhengting begins, both his voice and expression flat, “none of that is easy. At all.”

Euiwoong only shrugs and says, “I could say the same about biological science, you know.” He pauses for a moment. “But anyways, how is Victoria? I know seeing her again was the thing you were most excited about in the move.”

A large smile appears on Zhengting’s face. In the past couple of months or so he’s been back in China, he’s been reminded constantly of his childhood with Victoria, because even though they’re both much older and much more independent, they’re still neighbors and their relationship is still very much the same. “She’s great,” Zhengting says, “she’s doing much better than she was several years ago. I did tell you that she’s got a son too, right?”

Euiwoong nods.

“I met the kid, he’s nice, very polite. Believe it or not, he’s almost as tall as I am.”

Euiwoong scrunches his nose, and Zhengting laughs a little bit harder than he should, because a part of him wanted to tease Euiwoong in the first place. His poor friend can’t break the 170cm barrier, no matter how much milk he drinks and how many bowls of noodles he eats. If Euiwoong looked a bit younger, and Zhengting looked a bit older, they could’ve been mistaken for father and son. Except when they go drinking. Everyone thinks Zhengting is trying to sneak a minor into the bar.

There’s the sound of a door opening and closing in the background. “Oooh!” Euiwoong says, turning his head. “Seunghyuk-hyung is back! Hyung, come here and say hi to Jung Jung!”

A few seconds later, Zhengting sees Seunghyuk’s head fill the frame.

“Hey!” he says. “My man, it’s been so long. How’ve you been?”

“I’m great,” Zhengting replies, “how’re you? Have you found another Chinese partner yet?”

Seunghyuk shakes his head. There’s a little rustling as he’s pushed to the side, Euiwoong muttering, “Can you please sit down now?”

“I tried using Euiwoong, but his accent and grammar are still ass,” Seunghyuk says. “He still doesn’t know the difference between _mei_ and _bu_.”

“Hey, hey, don’t throw me under the bus,” Euiwoong protests, “Chinese is not my major, don’t blame me, I only know stuff from you guys and classes when I was a kid.”

“But Euiwoong, that is like, the _base_ of Chinese, you know…” Zhengting comments.

Seunghyuk laughs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, _mei_ and _bu_ is like, what you learn in Chinese 101. Anyways, my professor told me there’s going to be a study abroad opportunity here later this year, where a few of the Chinese majors can study in Beijing for the rest of this year and next year as long as you plan to pursue graduate work in the same major and university, which is what I intend to do.”

“That’s great!” Zhengting exclaims, “Beijing is only a couple hours drive from Tianjin, we’ll be able to visit each other!”

Seunghyuk laughs. “Yeah, but there’s like, five slots. And the professors choose which students can go. Best grades and whatnot,” he says.

“Aren’t you basically top of your class? Or close to it?” Zhengting asks.

“No, I fare okay but I’m not the best, that’s Euiwoong,” Seunghyuk says, “I’m not the teacher’s pet either, that’s all him too.”

“Hey!” Euiwoong protests. He tries to jab Seunghyuk, but the latter grabs his arm before he can make the movement.

“So yeah, don’t get too excited, Jung Jung,” Seunghyuk says. “I’m definitely going to try, though -- bake a few extra cookies and brownies and whatnot. Maybe I’ll break out the old noodle machine we bought but never used. Just wait.”

Zhengting smiles. “Okay, I trust you, but please don’t accidentally poison the staff,” he says.

Zhengting continues talking with his friends. Euiwoong goes over how things had been in the dorm lately -- the lightbulb in the bathroom broke again, but it’s still broken because Seunghyuk misplaced the screwdriver when Euiwoong was trying to teach him how to fix it. They should buy a new one, Seunghyuk says, and Euiwoong looks at him pointedly and asks, “Were you not just at the supermarket?”

Hyeongseop reappears sometime later. Zhengting asks how his job had been going, as he had been interning at an advertising firm over the summer. “It’s good,” he says, “but it’s a lot of work. If I had a single won for every minute I had to wait at the copy machine, I would be able to pay off all of my debt.” Zhengting apologizes for his misfortune, but he doubles over in laughter when Hyeongseop looks straight into camera, his expression very, very serious, and adds, “As well as pay for all of your guys’ tuitions too.”

He continues chatting with his friends until it’s late into the night. It’s almost as if he hadn’t left Seoul, as time flies by as quickly as a bullet train, and the vivaciousness that Hyeongseop tells his stories makes him feel like he’s been there with his friend for every one of his tales.

Zhengting has to leave when he yawns and notices the numbers on the clock on his laptop -- it’s past midnight. He tells his friends he has to sleep because since he’s supposed to TA in the afternoons, all of his classes were pushed into the morning -- his first one is at eight. Hyeongseop asks him, “Why are you slowly killing yourself?” as Zhengting waves goodbye to the camera. Zhengting reassures him, with a knowing smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll still be alive when I see you guys next time. If anything, we’ll probably end up dying together. You by copy machine, me by taking a textbook to the face.”

And as Zhengting closes his laptop, he sighs. For some reason, he feels like he’s been out partying all night -- he’s physically exhausted, but mentally, the buzz of excitement and background noise is still there, dancing at the back of his head.


	2. 按

**按** : _Sometimes all it takes is pressure from the hand of a person you trust._

* * *

_Song Victoria (06:23):_ We’re meeting with a big magazine director today. I expect discussion will go into the night, and if we land a deal that means I’ll be occupied for sure for the next two or three weeks. I’ll keep you updated. For this week, can you please pick up Minghao from school and cook dinner for him? I know that because it’s the first week of the school year for him, things will be a little hectic, and I’ll try to help the best I can.

_Zhu Zhengting (06:51):_ Of course, it’s no problem. I’ll manage, don’t worry. Good luck!

* * *

“How was your first day?” Zhengting asks, when he approaches Justin who’s waiting patiently for him at the school’s west gate.

“Alright,” Justin replies.

“I’ve parked across the street,” Zhengting says. He turns around, and Justin follows him. “Anything interesting happen?”

“No, not really.”

“Then what electives did you choose?”

“Marketing and business design.”

Zhengting almost laughs. Victoria probably--no, she _did_ influence him. “Do you want to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” He looks at Justin next to him, and the boy shrugs.

“I guess I’m okay with it,” Justin begins, “but my mom… works a lot.”

Zhengting smiles. “I get you, I wouldn’t exactly want that for myself either, working long hours into the night. It must be pretty stressful.”

And when Justin speaks next, Zhengting slows his pace.

“Well, that’s part of it... and I also don’t like seeing her like that.”

They’ve stopped in front of Zhengting’s car. Zhengting looks at Justin, sighing. “I understand,” he begins, his voice soft but still maintaining seriousness, “I don’t either. But it’s not like you or I can do much about it.”

Justin lets out a breath. His expression is mild, maybe with a tinge of sadness and a whole lot of thoughtfulness. “Yes, I know,” he murmurs.

“She’s made a great life for you and herself,” Zhengting chuckles, “and I’m jealous.” Zhengting hums when he turns on the ignition to his car a minute later. “How’d you fare before?” he asks, and when Justin looks at him oddly, he adds, “I mean, before I came here. I know it’s not just this year that Victoria has a hectic schedule.”

“My friend Sicheng, his dad used to drive me,” Justin replies.

“But what about dinner, do you know how to cook? Or when your mother isn’t home overnight?” Zhengting glances next to him, and Justin shrugs, staring straight ahead.

“No I don’t, but there’s always something in the fridge.”

“Wait--” Zhengting begins, “--you haven’t been eating anything raw, have you?”

He hears Justin let out a tiny huff of breath, as if he were about to laugh. When he glances over, there’s a small smile on the boy’s face.

“Of course not,” Justin replies. “It’s mostly just yogurt or something. Leftovers from previous nights, too.”

“Then I suppose tonight you don’t have to eat yogurt or leftovers,” Zhengting says, and he grins. “I’m not the best cook in the world, but I’ve been told my food is at least enjoyable.”

“Thank you, Zhengting,” Justin says. “But you know,” he adds quietly, and Zhengting sees him turn his head to look at him, “you should probably do something with the leftovers, I don’t want them to go to waste.”

Zhengting is taken aback for a moment. He didn’t expect Justin, someone who’s so young--a _kid_ \--to think about food waste, especially when his living conditions didn’t warrant it. If anything, Zhengting would've assumed he didn't care. Zhengting even remembered that Hyeongseop and Seunghyuk, albeit being poor college students, still threw out food on the occasion that “This doesn't taste good anymore and I refuse to eat it even though it is perfectly consumable” (but then again, since when did food from right off the stove cooked by either of them taste good in the first place?)

Zhengting almost expects Justin to be ironically joking; but no, the look on his face is serious.

Even though Victoria wasn’t home a lot of the time, she had still somehow managed to raise her son well -- to be considerate.

“Of course,” Zhengting smiles. “Yeah, I’ll think of something.”

For the next few minutes, Justin is silent. He stares out the window, one hand resting against the glass, watching the cars that pass by them on the expressway. Zhengting expects him to be silent for the rest of the drive, so he’s a little bit surprised when Justin asks him, tentatively, “How were your classes today?”

“They’re okay,” Zhengting replies. “Just more lectures, more notes, and more research to do later. It’s a little bit odd, since I’m accustomed to the system I had in Korea, but it’s not anything I can’t get used to in a short amount of time.”

“What do you take?” Justin asks. His body is still leaned to the side, one hand still placed on the window, but his head to turned around to look at Zhengting.

Zhengting pauses for a moment. “Physiology, cell biology, general ecology, and educational philosophy,” he says, listing them off in the order that they appear in his head. “Although, I only had two of those classes today.”

“That sounds difficult,” Justin says. “I don’t know anything about what you’ve just said.”

Zhengting tilts his head to the side. “Well…” he begins. “If you put me in your math class, I’d probably struggle too, simply because I haven’t had to use a lot of math, especially high school math, in a very long time.”

“That is true,” Justin mumbles. He turns his head back to look outside the window.

“Thank you for asking,” Zhengting says.

Justin stares back at Zhengting. “Oh,” he murmurs. And then after a moment, he says, “You’re welcome.”

* * *

“What do you like to eat?”

“What?” Justin looks up from his spot on his couch. His legs are crossed, a textbook in his lap with a workbook sitting off to the side. Zhengting is leaning over, his sleeves rolled up and his elbows resting on top of the couch.

“Dinner,” Zhengting says. “Your mother made _fensi_ and cabbage last night. I can do a lot of things with that.”

Justin shrugs. “Anything is okay,” he says.

“Really,” Zhengting says. He turns around, walking back to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” Justin replies.

“Well, then what do you prefer?” Zhengting stares inside, taking out jars and moving aside bags of veggies as he looks through the items. “If you like something sweet, there’s the last bit left of _tianmianjiang_ in the jar.” He sets aside the clear glass container, the almost-black sauce having settled and hardened, only occupying the very last bottom few centimeters of the jar. “Although I might have to melt it first,” Zhengting mutters to himself, frowning. “If you want something savory, there’s plenty of _huangjiang_ left too.”

And before Justin can answer, Zhengting has pulled open one of the cupboards next to where he’s crouched. “Oh, look, do you like spicy things? There’s several packets of _mala_ left too. And--” He notices the lower shelf in the cupboard, “--if we have any tofu, there’s packets of _sichuan mapo_ here as well.”

“Zhengting,” Justin begins. He sounds a little flustered, his voice fading off on the last syllable of Zhengting’s name. “Really, I’m okay with anything.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, quietly. And still facing the fridge, he laughs stupidly to himself for having gotten carried away. “I’ll use the last of the _tianmianjiang_ , then,” he says. And then when he stands up, holding the jar in his hand, he asks himself, _How in the world am I going to get this out of the bottom of the glass?_

* * *

He ends up with a blister from hot oil flying onto his hand when he attempted to flip the _fensi_ after adding it into the sauce and vegetables that were already simmering. And then a popped blister when he accidentally hovered his hand a second too long above the steam opening of the slow cooker when he pressed the button to let it de-pressurize.

Justin disappears down the hallway, returning back with rubbing alcohol and ointment. He grabs a box of q-tips and band-aids off of the top of the refrigerator, which Zhengting hadn’t noticed were placed there before.

“Sorry,” Justin says, as he pulls out a q-tip and unscrews the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“It’s not your fault,” Zhengting replies, “I was being clumsy.” He winces, a hissed “tch” coming out of his lips when the alcohol soaks into his wound.

“Sorry,” Justin says again.

“Again, not your fault,” Zhengting replies. For some reason, he almost feels like laughing at the rather compliant and worried expression on Justin’s face. The boy has his head down, staring at Zhengting’s palm resting in his hand as he runs the q-tip over the inflamed area on the side of Zhengting’s hand. “You needn’t apologize so much, Justin,” Zhengting says.

“S--” Justin begins, and then he closes his mouth. “Oh.”

And now Zhengting actually laughs, because Justin pauses his actions for a moment and looks up at Zhengting like he’s just realized something. The way he stares at Zhengting is a little bit odd, his gaze unwavering and his lips half-parted as if he were about to say anything.

“What?” Zhengting asks.

“Nothing,” Justin replies, and he resumes cleaning Zhengting’s wound, turning around and reaching for the ointment as he’s done with the rubbing alcohol.

“Why do you keep the band-aids and q-tips on top of the fridge?” Zhengting asks, when Justin has finished smoothing down the band-aid over Zhengting’s hand.

“My mom started cooking more often after she got divorced,” Justin says, as he reaches up to place the boxes back in their original positions. “She wasn’t so good at it at first, because she was used to having someone else cook for her.”

“Hmm,” Zhengting hums. “So I suppose you’re used to doing this. Bandaging blisters and whatnot.”

“Yes,” he replies, “but I haven’t in some time. She’s gotten much better at cooking, but it’s also because she just doesn’t cook as much as she used to.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, “right, I’m sorry.”

And then Justin turns around to face him, his head tilting slightly to the side as he looks at Zhengting. He smiles, ever-so-gently, and says, “No worries. It’s not your fault.”

* * *

“Hello?” Zhengting pokes his head around the doorway, looking into the classroom.

“Oh hey!”

He turns his head, and at the very corner of the room, Xuanyi sits at her desk, a thermos with a spoon sitting in front of her. “Are you ready?” she asks, grinning as Zhengting approaches her.

“Uh--” Zhengting begins, but Xuanyi interrupts him with her giggling. It’s a light, tinkling sound -- airy and soft just like the woman herself. When Zhengting had told Hyeongseop she was pretty, he wasn’t joking. Where Victoria is a timeless, elegant beauty, one you would typically see gracing the covers of magazines such as Gioami or Vogue, Xuanyi is vastly different in that she is similar to a fairy -- all of her features are small and delicate. It’s interesting to see her move around-- _no_ , more like _flit_ around her classroom, Zhengting thinks. He watches her walk over to one of the cupboards in the back of the room, opening it and moving aside a few things before retrieving a folder full of papers. Briefly, he wonders how someone like Xuanyi ended up being a teacher; but one isn’t exactly supposed to judge another person by their appearance.

“These are a copy of my lesson plans for the next few weeks, with what topics I want to cover and what activities are planned,” Xuanyi tells him, handing over the folder in her hands. “For now, I just want you to answer questions and work on discussion with the kids,” she says. “We can later work you into leading a few lessons yourself, and then maybe sometime later in the school year you’ll be teaching the full class.” And then she laughs, smiling sweetly, when she sees the uneasy look on Zhengting’s face at hearing the words _teaching the full class_. “Since it’s just the beginning of the school year, we’re not doing much at the moment besides going over the basics. Cell functions, their structure, that kind of thing.”

Zhengting sighs and nods. _Cell functions._ Easy, that's something he knows by heart. “Thank you, Xuanyi,” he says.

Xuanyi smiles. “Glad to have you here, Zhengting,” she replies. “You can put your bag on the lab table nearest to my desk, that table is now yours. There’s still about another forty minutes before the next class starts, so feel free to do whatever.”

Zhengting walks over, placing his backpack on top of the table Xuanyi had pointed out. He pulls up a chair, sitting down and taking out his phone. He scrolls a bit through Weibo for a bit, but a few minutes later, he raises his head, looking up at Xuanyi a few meters away from him, who appeared to be mindlessly clicking on her computer.

“Xuanyi, if you’re not busy,” he begins.

“Hmm? Not anything too important, what is it?” she replies.

“Can I ask you, why did you decide to start teaching?” Zhengting asks.

Xuanyi pauses. The room is oddly silent for a few seconds. “It’s a long story,” she says, the look on her face wistful. “I graduated from Tianjin several years ago. And I suppose, teaching within the system was a pretty easy path for me to go down, being an alum and all.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. That’s quite a deviation from the response he was anticipating -- from what he’s seen of Xuanyi, she seems to be someone who’s perpetually flighty, her heart high up in the clouds.

Xuanyi quickly shakes her head. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it, or enjoy teaching the kids,” she clarifies. “I actually think the kids are the best part. You know, being one of the younger teachers here, sometimes you forget that you’re the instructor and they’re the student. I’ve seen some of them--” her voice quiets for a moment, and she looks at her hands placed next to each other on her desk before a soft smile appears on her face, “--they remind me of my friends and I, when we were younger. And even now, they sometimes remind me of my friends and I at our current ages.”

“That’s quite surprising, huh?” Zhengting replies. He doesn’t know what that kind of observation, what that kind of realization feels like, but the way Xuanyi looks when she speaks tells him that it is, at least in some way, a fulfilling experience.

“For sure,” Xuanyi replies. “It’s different, but I don’t think I’d know as much about people, or even as much about myself, if I weren’t a teacher.” She laughs a second later, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. But the sound of her laughter isn’t suppressed, and she looks down at her desk. As if she were laughing at herself. “That’s enough about me,” she says. “What motivates you to want to teach, Zhengting?”

In the thirty minutes that are left, Zhengting summarizes the past four years of his life. How he got his opportunity to study in Korea and worked on getting his family out of their small town, how he decided to choose his major and his minor, how he ended up back in China at Tianjin.

Xuanyi listens intently, sometimes commenting with little stories of her own. She’s fairly easy to talk to, Zhengting realizes, and not just from a professional standpoint. Maybe it’s because they’re relatively close in age, maybe it’s because there’s something about her that’s charming, but time flies by quickly, and Zhengting is only aware of how long they’ve been conversing when the bell signifying five minutes until the next class rings.

“Your first class will start soon,” Xuanyi says, and she grins. Zhengting sees excitement in her smile, and maybe a little bit of teasing.

He sits, quietly, his phone on the table next to him. Sometimes he glances at the door, watching the students pile in, and sometimes he’ll look down at the time on his phone, counting down the minutes until the class would “officially” start. He can feel the students look at him curiously. Sometimes they’ll make eye contact, and Zhengting will just smile amiably.

And then the next bell rings. Xuanyi gets up from her seat and closes the classroom door.

“Good afternoon, class!” she says, standing at the front of the room. “There’s someone I’d like to introduce. This is Zhu Zhengting. He’s a student at the university, and he’ll be helping me teach for the rest of the year.” Xuanyi motions for Zhengting to stand up.

He lets out a small sigh, pushes back his chair, and smiles to the twenty-something pairs of eyes all focusing on him.

* * *

“Last class of the day. How are you faring?” Xuanyi asks.

“Pretty well, actually,” Zhengting replies. “The students, I’m not sure if they’re shy or they’re smart, but they don’t really ask questions.”

Xuanyi laughs at his statement. “I think it’s both,” she notes. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing okay. It wouldn’t be good if you disliked being here, because you have to stay for the rest of the year.” She grins, and walks back to her desk.

Zhengting leans against the lab table, his hands propped up next to him, the smooth black surface cool against his palms. He watches the students walk in, some by themselves, some in duos, some in large groups.

Until, there’s a duo he’s not really expecting. Or rather, a person he’s not really expecting.

“Ugh, it’s finally the last class. I want to go take a nap,” one of the boys says.

“Yeah, I know. Same with me,” the other boy replies.

They take their seats at their desks, off to the right side of the room, which is where Zhengting is standing.

The one closest to him looks up, sees Zhengting, and stares, his eyes wide, his lips in the shape of an “o”.

Zhengting smiles awkwardly. He lifts one of his hands slightly, and offers a small wave. Zhengting could recognize that signature height, willowy frame, mass of light-brown locks anywhere.

The boy sitting next to him nudges him. Zhengting can barely pick up his words. “What are you looking at, Justin?” the boy asks.

And Justin’s too voice is quiet for Zhengting to hear, but he can tell by the way the boy's lips move, that he said, “Nothing.” Justin turns away, scratching the back of his neck. He says something else to his friend, and his friend shrugs.

_What in the world_? Zhengting asks himself. It never even crossed his mind that when he was told he would be working in Nankai, that he would be put in the same class as Justin. There were several biology teachers, each of whom taught at least a few classes each day. And besides, he wasn’t even aware in the first place that biology would be a class for the second years.

The bell rings a minute later, and Xuanyi closes the classroom door and approaches the front of the class as she had done so for the three previous classes.

“Good afternoon everyone! It’s the last class of the day, and I know you’re all tired, but please bear with me. There’s someone here I’d like to introduce,” Xuanyi says. “This is Zhu Zhengting.”

Zhengting swears he sees Justin glance oddly at him out of the corner of his eye.

And for the rest of the class period, he feels a pair of eyes always on him.

* * *

At the end of class, all of the students are hurriedly packing their things and rushing out of the door. There’s only a few students left, those who are not worried with taking their time and those who wish to ask Xuanyi questions.

They include Justin and his friend.

“C’mon, man, let’s go!” his friend says.

“Uh,” Justin begins. They’re close enough that Zhengting can hear their conversation. “I have something to ask the teacher…”

“Well, okay,” his friend replies. “I’ll wait for you.”

Justin slowly approaches Zhengting. “What do I do?” is the first thing he asks.

Zhengting looks up. “Huh?” he replies.

“Do I just… stay here?” Justin asks. His voice is lowered, his stance casual, but there's clearly concern -- and maybe even a little bit of panic in his expression. He glances back, and his friend is occupied with something on his phone. “Do you want me to wait at the gate?”

“I…” Zhengting begins. He pauses. If Justin were to wait for him, and they’d leave together, that would look odd. How would he explain that to Xuanyi? He’s much too young to be Justin’s parent, and he’s much too old to have been acquainted with him in school. And it’s already too late to give Xuanyi a warning -- he already told her his family is all in Beijing. Zhengting might even have to switch his plans, for if Xuanyi knew and tattled there would be obvious suspicion he would help Justin cheat on his schoolwork; he’s not ready to have his class schedule reshuffled _again_ , and within such a short timeframe. It's best no one knows. “Yeah, just go and wait at the gate,” he says. “I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

Justin nods. “Okay,” he replies, turning back around and returning to where his friend was standing.

“What’d you need to ask?” his friend asks.

“Nothing,” Justin replies, simply.

“Nothing?” his friend says, and he laughs. “Justin, you can’t answer every question I ask you with ‘nothing’.”

Justin sighs. “Come on, Sicheng,” he says. “Who said I can’t?” And then, without a single word, he quickly shuffles out of the classroom, the sleeve of Sicheng’s blazer grasped tightly in one of his hands, his friend in tow behind.

Xuanyi walks over a few seconds later and asks why Zhengting is smiling oddly.

* * *

“I’m sorry that took longer than I thought, Xuanyi wanted to go over a few things with me.”

“It’s fine.”

“How was your day?” Zhengting asks.

“It was okay.” For a moment Justin’s gaze seems to focus on something right over Zhengting’s shoulder. Zhengting glances behind him once, but there’s nothing there besides the pavement, the trees, and the few other students that were still on campus. “Zhengting…” Justin says, as they begin walking, heading west towards the parking lot where Zhengting usually parks. “You didn’t tell me you’d be teaching in Nankai.”

“I’m sorry-- it just--” Zhengting pauses. Had he even fully processed the situation before today? It feels like only three days ago that his counselor had told him they were going to put him in Nankai. It feels like only two days ago that he told his friends in Seoul that he’d be teaching in a high school. It feels like only yesterday he just met Xuanyi. Even Victoria only vaguely knew, for she had been busy recently, and Zhengting’s situation is probably one of her least important notions. “--slipped my mind,” Zhengting says.

“It’s okay,” Justin replies. He looks down at the pavement in front of him, and kicks a stone off to the side. “It’s just kind of--”

“Weird,” Zhengting finishes. “Right? A very weird coincidence.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll just pretend I don’t know you,” Zhengting offers.

Justin looks up. “You see, that’s the best idea, but that’s still a problem,” he begins, slowly. “If you do that, then if someone sees us together… I don’t want to explain to everyone who asks. It's way too complicated, and I don't want to cause anyone trouble.”

“Right. Then…” Zhengting pauses. “I think the only other way would to leave when there’s no one left on campus.”

“That’ll be late,” Justin points out. “There were still a few people around us at the gate and it’s past twenty minutes since school ended.”

Zhengting sighs. “I’m sorry, Justin, I just didn’t--”

“Zhengting, it’s alright,” Justin interrupts. He looks startled for a moment at having interrupted him. “Sorry, uhh….”

Zhengting nods at him to carry on. “Go ahead,” he murmurs.

“It’s not your fault,” Justin says, his head tilted slightly up to the horizon. “And anyways…” They’ve stopped right in front of Zhengting’s car. “I guess we’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, we’ll have to deal with it.”

* * *

Victoria ends up landing the magazine deal, and so she tells Zhengting he’s basically her lifesaver for donating the time to take care of her son. But Zhengting just shrugs, and says it’s okay. He almost tells Victoria he enjoys his “job” -- to some degree he does, because Justin is one of the least needy teens he’s ever met, quiet and easy to where Zhengting can very easily relax around him.

And so, he and Justin fall into a wobbly routine, as they have no other choice.

Zhengting learns the faces and names of all the students in Xuanyi’s four afternoon classes. He becomes accustomed to them as if he were another classmate, because they really do remind him of he and his own friends. And often, he feels that way too, too comfortable and used to the environment -- quite a few times he’s caught himself taking a step in Justin’s direction after class ends, intent on walking at the boy's side like they normally do after school ends. He has to remind himself that _no_ , he needs to wait and occupy himself with something else for another period of time before he can start towards the school’s west gate.

On occasion, when he scans the classroom, looking over the faces of all the kids, whenever his eyes happen upon Justin he’s always taken aback for a moment and  reminded that he’s an instructor -- on a very different professional level than anyone else in the room with the exception of Xuanyi. He begins, slowly, to understand what Xuanyi had told him.

And sometimes, he’ll catch Justin looking at him, with a certain interest in his eyes, very similar to how he looked that one day when Zhengting caught him listening in on the conversation between Victoria and his father hardly a week after his arrival back in China.

Zhengting will only tilt his head down, nod slightly, and Justin will look away, his shoulders hunched forward and his hands in his lap.

It’s three weeks later, a Thursday, and Xuanyi said they’d have their first unit test on Friday.

They sit across from each other on the couch, cross-legged with a stack of index cards between them, Justin’s notebook closed and sitting behind him.

“Spindle fibers.” Zhengting holds up an index card.

“Those little spider things that appear and pull apart the chromosomes in a cell,” Justin says.

Zhengting bursts out laughing. “‘Spider things’?” he asks.

“What? They look like spiders to me,” Justin replies. He shrugs.

“Fair enough.” Zhengting sets the index card in his hand aside, and pulls out another one from the stack. “A wall.”

“Only on plant cells,” Justin says.

“Good. Now, mitochondria.”

“The powerhouse of the cell. Zhengting, do I really need to do this?” Justin sighs, and he falls backward onto the couch cushions with a soft _oomph_ , only to realize that his notebook was still there. He arches his back, pulling it out from beneath him, and slides it onto the coffee table.

“Well, you’re the one that asked me to help you,” Zhengting replies.

Justin lets out a breath. His hands are still placed on his shins, and he pulls himself up back into a sitting position. “That was before I realized that I really don’t need any more practice,” he says. “I’ve basically gotten everything you’ve thrown at me right, more or less.” The statement coming out of most people's mouths would sound arrogant, but Justin says it in such a way that it sounds as if he were stating something as simple as, “The sky is blue today.”

Zhengting smiles. It’s mostly just because what the boy said is true, he realizes. Justin doesn’t really need his help, he studies alright on his own -- probably a byproduct of having to live independently for a good chunk of his middle and high school years. “Then,” Zhengting begins, “do you want to do something else?”

“Yeah,” Justin replies. “Hey, can I help you with your homework?”

Zhengting pauses for a moment. “Really,” he says, partly asking a question and partly because he's wondering if Justin is joking.

He gets a firm nod in response.

“Uh, alright, you can try,” Zhengting says, slowly.

Justin doesn’t seem at all fazed. “Okay,” he replies, “what can I do?”

Zhengting takes a breath, and mentally prepares himself for a spiel. Inwardly, he smiles a bit, curious to see how Justin would digest what he's about to say. “Well, you see, there’s two articles I was given to read. They’re on how respiratory functions and structure can affect the speech patterns and productions of an individual, and in both of those articles they go in-depth about particular experiments conducted in order to assess how factors such as a person’s lung volume or their frequency of breaths versus nuances in their speaking affect variables like the ability to speak in a natural manner or the pitch of their voice when speaking. I’ve left off on the part where I have to assess the methodology of the experiments described in both articles and analyze why each part of the experiment was necessary in order to achieve the exact resul--”

“Never mind,” Justin interrupts, suddenly.

Zhengting leans forward and laughs. _As expected,_ he thinks. “I’m surprised you listened that far before saying anything,” he says between breaths. “Anyways, what do you want to do?”

“We can watch TV?” Justin suggests. Zhengting murmurs, “Okay,” so Justin climbs off of the couch. Next to the DVD player sitting in the lower compartment of the TV stand are stacks of disc cases. “My mom doesn’t believe in paying a lot for television, so we only have CCTV, HBS, JSBC, and the other really basic channels as well as DVDs of shows and movies she really likes.” He pulls out the top half of a stack. “We’ve got _Edge of Innocence_ , _The Game Changer_ , the first season of _Ice Fantasy_ \--”

“I like _Ice Fantasy_ ,” Zhengting says. “Do you want to watch that?”

“Okay,” Justin replies. He turns on both the TV and the DVD player, slipping in the DVD before he climbs back onto the couch. “I didn’t expect you to choose _Ice Fantasy,_ ” he says.

“Really?” Zhengting turns his head and looks at the boy.

Justin hums. “Yeah,” he replies. “I think you’re a person that would’ve chosen something like _Edge of Innocence_ or _Asura_.”

“Huh,” Zhengting says, leaning back against the couch. “Then, what else do you think about me?” he asks, suddenly. He looks at Justin, who seems to be caught off guard for a moment, yet he quickly recovers and divulges himself in thought. He raises his head after a few moments, glancing at Zhengting from across the couch.

“I don’t know,” he begins, quietly. “You’re hard to describe.”

Zhengting opens his mouth to ask, _Really?_ but Justin speaks again.

“My mom told me, a week or two after you came here, that although she’s old, you’re young just like me,” Justin says. “That maybe we’d be similar. Maybe that’s true, I don’t know.”

Zhengting almost laughs. Victoria isn’t really _old_ , but what Justin’s told him sounds exactly like something Victoria would say.

“I didn’t really care, at first,” Justin continues, “I thought the was just too worried about me _again_ , so I didn’t expect anything when she told me about you. But you know, Zhengting--” he pauses for a moment, as if deciding at the last moment what words he’d use. “--I think you’re really likeable. I mean it's not that I didn't expect you to be likeable, it's just that I didn't expect myself to like you much.”

“Well, I'm flattered,” Zhengting says, a soft smile breaking across his lips, “but is that all?”

“Thoughtful, I guess? Responsible,” Justin adds. And then he giggles. “You’re like an upgraded, more mature, and less loud version of Sicheng.”

“I’m honored,” Zhengting murmurs. He wasn’t expecting that kind of response -- he doesn’t know Sicheng at all besides the way the boy acts in class, so he can’t personally compare himself to him. But if Justin is comparing him to the second person in the world he’s closest to, then Zhengting is very flattered.

Justin laughs softly. “Let’s watch,” he says, and Zhengting nods.

* * *

Sometime during the episodes, Justin had shifted from a sitting position to lying down on his side. He’s tall, and the couch isn’t very long, so if Zhengting were to move his knee, he’d probably hit Justin in the head. Zhengting remains still the entire time.

“My mother once told me your eyesight will go lopsided if you watch or read things lying on your side,” he comments.

Justin huffs. “Do you believe that? My mom told me that too. But my eyesight is still fine,” he replies.

“No,” Zhengting says, and laughs.

Victoria returns home when it’s nearly midnight. Zhengting hears the lock on the door turning, and he looks to his right to tell Justin his mother’s back home. But when he glances down and sees the boy’s face, his words are lost.

His eyes are closed, his breaths slow and even. Asleep. Probably dozed off somewhere around the fourth episode, Zhengting thinks.

Very carefully, he picks himself up from the couch, lifting up his knees and feet as to not accidentally hit Justin. When he rises and sees Victoria standing in the doorway, he puts a single index finger over his lips and approaches her.

“He’s asleep,” Zhengting says, quietly. “We were watching _Ice Fantasy_.”

“Oh,” Victoria murmurs, and she sighs. “Thank you so much for watching over him, Zhengting. I know I’ve said it a lot, but I never feel like I say it enough.”

“And I tell you every time, Victoria, that it’s no problem,” Zhengting replies, a gentle smile on his face. “Do you want me to wake him? Or move him?”

Victoria shakes her head. “No, just let him sleep,” she says. “And besides, he’s too large for either of us to carry.” Victoria smiles. “You can go home now, your job for the day is done.”

Zhengting glances back behind him. “Okay,” he says, when he turns back to look at Victoria. “Just one last thing. If he's going to sleep on the couch...”

He trails off, leaving Victoria standing in her entryway as he approaches the couch. There’s a throw draped over the top of one half of it -- the half that Zhengting had been sitting on. It’s light, Zhengting thinks, as he lifts it up, but it’s better than nothing. He walks around to the other side, where Justin lies, and carefully drapes it over him.

“Wh…” Justin murmurs, shifting his position slightly. His eyes open just a little bit -- just enough to see Zhengting looking down at him.

“Just sleep,” Zhengting says, softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Huh, guess I was right,” Justin whispers, just loud enough for Zhengting to hear, and his eyes flutter back closed.

Zhengting smiles.

* * *

Xuanyi becomes the first friend near Zhengting’s age he makes after his return to China. And she’s truly grateful, Zhengting can see.

She already possesses the character of someone very likeable, he realizes, but for some reason she just isn’t popular among the faculty in Nankai. Zhengting asks her why, and she just shrugs and says, “Maybe they think I’m a bit too flouncy and young.”

He protests, says he’s young too, but Xuanyi just smiles and laughs, “But you’re not stuck at that age where they’re not sure whether you’re an adult or still a dumb, airheaded college kid. And don’t know whether to treat you like one or the other. Even the kids are sometimes like that too -- they forget I'm an adult.”

Zhengting chuckles. “Yeah, that’s true,” he notes. “There’s quite a few boys that have hearts for eyes whenever they see you.”

Xuanyi rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know.” She casually brushes it off. “It’s funny when they stutter and try to suck up to me. I thought it was creepy at first, then it was flattering, and now I just don’t care.”

And then when Zhengting sits down with her one day during her lunch break, he asks, “Who’s your favorite student?”

Xuanyi pauses, her spoon stuck in her mouth. She gulps down her soup, before replying. “That’s a hard question, Zhengting,” she says, “because there’s a lot of kids in my classes I like. And I don’t like to pick favorites, since that might be bad.”

“Then which students do you like the most?” Zhengting asks.

“Hmm,” Xuanyi begins, “don’t laugh at me, but Jin Boyang from my fourth class. He’s a great kid.”

“Why would I laugh?” Zhengting replies. Actually, he does know why he’d laugh, and he’s trying not to at the moment. Boyang, although fairly popular amongst his classmates, reminds him of Euiwoong. The perfect student. A teacher’s pet. Wears glasses to make him seem more smart even though he's 99.9% sure the kid doesn't need them.

“Because he’s a nerd,” Xuanyi outright says, and she laughs heartily at the way Zhengting startles at her bluntness. “I always appreciate a student who consistently gets good grades, never complains, and never nags me. I also appreciate the almond cookies he brings me from his mother’s shop.”

“That’s favoritism, Xuanyi,” Zhengting teases.

“Oh shush,” she replies, waving her hand. “I still grade his assignments fairly.”

She goes on to list other students that’ve caught her attention. They range from kids just like Boyang, the ones that cause her no trouble, to the class clown type of kids like Shou Enxi that keep the classroom mood from going blue and prevent Xuanyi from falling asleep at her desk.

“What do you think about Justin?” he asks, suddenly.

“Huh,” Xuanyi murmurs. “Well, he’s a nice kid. He’s quiet, for sure. Studies well, I guess, doesn’t really have any problems academically. Quite different from his friend.”

“Sicheng?” Zhengting asks.

Xuanyi nods. “That kid…” she trails off for a moment. “I didn’t expect them to be friends. Sicheng is much more outgoing, much more careless, while Justin is much more reserved and much more of a perfectionist.” Xuanyi pauses, looking down at her knees while she thinks. “But I suppose they make sense, you know? Opposites. They keep each other in check. I’ve seen the two traipsing down the halls. It’s mostly Sicheng tugging Justin along, but sometimes it’s the other way around. The only difference is that Sicheng complains and Justin doesn’t.”

Now it is Zhengting’s turn to be the one that goes, “Huh.” Justin mentions Sicheng quite often. Zhengting assumed he would be the closest of the few friends Justin has (if not, the only one he has). But the boy sometimes speaks about his best friend in a way that sounded like he had a very deep reliance on him.

Xuanyi looks up. “Why’d you ask, Zhengting?"

Zhengting pauses for a moment. What is he supposed to say? He was just genuinely curious, someone being able to see Justin from a viewpoint that’s not his own or Victoria’s -- but then again, Xuanyi doesn’t know that they know each other outside of the classroom. “Uh--” he begins, searching his mind, “--I thought the same way you did. About those two being opposites of each other.”

Xuanyi giggles, bringing a hand up in front of mouth. “You noticed too, huh?” she says. “Quite interesting, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Zhengting agrees. Justin compared him to Sicheng -- Zhengting can’t personally see it, maybe just the aspect that they’re both more extroverted and generally carefree.

“I once met Justin’s mother, you know, at the open house,” Xuanyi hums. “If I didn’t become a teacher, I think I’d want to become someone like her.”

“Why is that?” Zhengting asks. There’s many things to admire about Victoria -- her beauty, her wealth, her lifestyle. It was mostly those three things that people chose, because they were easily the ones that stood out most -- the ones that Victoria liked to flash to the public. But Zhengting knows the depths of her personality, the things that truly matter and stand out when it comes to admiration, only revealed after peeling back the several layers of glamor that was Victoria --  and none of those three things were it. Zhengting has a feeling Xuanyi was not one to particularly pay attention to those aspects, and he is right.

“Well, I could tell by the way she spoke,” Xuanyi begins, “that she’s a strong woman. It is a very generic description, but you could tell that she had a lot of confidence, a lot of trust, and a lot of control. I know she’s a businesswoman and you need to have those traits to be successful in the industry, but I’ve never seen someone that embodies those aspects so well.”

Xuanyi laughs softly for a moment. “It’s the same with her son,” she says. “He gets good grades and never disrupts class, but he’s not one of those kids that tries to suck up to me. He’s like that character in the background that you can always rely on.”

Xuanyi sighs, and she puts her elbows up on her desk and leans on her hands. “I wonder what their family is like, what kind of people they have in their lives,” she murmurs. “She was able to raise her son very well. I wonder what kind of people her parents are. They must've been wonderful if they raised her to be such a success.”

A small smile appears on Zhengting’s lips at Xuanyi’s words.

Oh, does he know.

Victoria raised herself.

And with that experience, she was able to single-handedly raise a business and a son as well.

* * *

Or, maybe, in some way Justin has followed in her mother's footsteps and raised himself a bit in his life too, Zhengting thinks.

It’s a few weeks later, and things had calmed down after the preliminary rush of Victoria’s magazine deal. She’s invited Zhengting over for dinner, because “It’s the first time I’m going to touch a stove in weeks -- I want to make something good and I also want to thank you.”

He’s slouched on her couch, one leg up while the other dangles down, his laptop resting in his lap.

“There’s a few ways you could approach this,” Justin says. He sits next to Zhengting and looks at him as Zhengting is focused on something on his laptop screen, eyebrows furrowed. “You can say nothing and deal with it, talk to him directly, or go and talk to your lab advisor.” Justin pauses. “Or, as Sicheng might suggest, you could go the petty route. Sabotage research results, make him look dumb, then go complain.”

Zhengting looks up. “I kinda want to do that,” he says, and then scrunches his nose, grimacing, “that guy annoys the crap out of me. He’s not even the team captain, what gives him the right to push me around?”

“An inferiority complex, maybe,” Justin replies.

Zhengting laughs at his response. Sounds about right, he thinks. “Do you even know what that is?”

Justin nods. “Yeah, _plenty_ of my classmates have one.” His tone is stately, speaking very matter-of-factly.

Zhengting stops typing and stares. “ _Wow_ ,” he sputters. He’s come to learn and grow accustomed to the fact that Justin has a face and demeanor that’s nice, amiable, gentle, _soft_ even -- nothing that might suggest obvious candidness, although Justin’s certainly not one to lie or omit truth.

Justin is silent for a few moments, before a smile breaks across his face and he outright just starts _laughing_ , leaning back onto the couch as his eyes fold and crinkle at the corners. “I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, when he’s caught his breath, “the look on your face was kind of funny.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t expect you to say _that_ ,” Zhengting replies, staring at him over the black rim of his glasses.

Justin shrugs, a mildly silly smile still on his face. “I’m just being truthful. So yeah, if I were you, I’d say something to someone. You gotta say the truth sometime, or else the situation will probably end up going nowhere.”

“Huh,” Zhengting says, looking back his laptop screen. The words he’s typing on the screen waver in front of his eyes for a second, and he squeezes them closed for a moment. “You’re right. I’ll probably speak to my lab director,” he murmurs. “I just hope that he’ll take me seriously since I’m the youngest in the group.”

“I think you’ll be fine,” Justin reassures. “Hey,” he begins, and Zhengting looks up.

“Hmm?”

He stares for a moment, before saying, “I didn’t know you wore glasses."

Zhengting shrugs. “My contacts dry my eyes out if I wear them while looking at a screen for too long,” he explains.

“Wear them when you go speak to your lab director,” Justin advises. “They make you look more professional. My mom does the same thing.”

Now it’s Zhengting’s turn to laugh. “Thanks,” he replies, with a wide smile on his face, “I’ll make sure to remember that.”

And then somewhere in the background, Victoria yells, “I heard someone mention me!”

Zhengting turns his head, and yells back, “You haven’t touched a stove in a few weeks, just make sure you don’t burn anything!”

* * *

“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard of that kid, he’s an asshole apparently,” Victoria says, as she reaches with her chopsticks to grab another piece of tofu off of the dish sitting in the middle of the table.

“Did you even meet him before?” Zhengting asks, staring incredulously at Victoria, who is now scooping some of the celery and beef into her bowl.

“Yeah, sort of, Amber likes to rant to me sometimes,” Victoria replies. “She says she’s glad that kid passed her class already. Didn’t like him that much, said he was the type that kept on nagging her about doing extra credit and favors and stuff. Sucked up to her a lot apparently too, to the point where it was painfully obvious and cringey.”

Zhengting snorts. “He seems like someone who would do that.”

“How long until you’re done with the project?” Victoria asks.

“Probably another one or two weeks, depends if he actually decides to contribute some of his own work some time instead of just pushing the rest of us around,” Zhengting replies.

“I’m sorry,” Victoria says, and she smiles sympathetically.

Zhengting shrugs. “I’ll deal with it,” he says.

“Anyhow, Zhengting--” Victoria begins, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs, “--you’ve been back for like, what, three something months now?”

“Yeah, around three,” he replies.

“How’s the social life going? Parties?” Victoria asks.

Zhengting almost laughs, because the way Victoria asked him so casually was as if she _expected_ an exciting or interesting answer to come out of mouth. “Uh, no,” he replies. “If I’m not at home or on campus then I’m at the grocery store.” He actually laughs when Victoria furrows her brows, looking at him as if he just said something utterly stupid.

“Does a social life even exist for you?” she asks, her lips pursed into a thin line. Zhengting doesn't know if she's actually disappointed or she's just humoring him.

“I have you--” he begins, but Victoria cuts him off.

“I hate to admit it, but I don’t count,” she says. “I’m not at that stage of my life anymore where I can be your drinking buddy.”

“Well,” Zhengting then says, “I’ve still got my friends in Korea. Since I don’t live in the dorms anymore there’s not a lot of chances for me to meet other people, but there’s a few other students I’ve done projects with that’re real nice, like Chengcheng, but we’re not super close. Oh, and there’s Xuanyi.”

“You are sad,” Victoria deadpans, “when your only friends circle is me, a select few other kids, your friends in Korea, and the teacher you work for.” She looks at him grimly, pointing the chopsticks in her right hand at him.

“Oh come _on_.” Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Why’d you even ask me, anyways?”

Victoria sets down her chopsticks and folds her hands in front of her. “Well,” she begins slowly. The tone of her voice is neutral, but slightly warning, and Zhengting is all of a sudden nervous. “Your mother called,” Victoria says. “She wants to know if you’ve got a girlfriend and when you two will get married.”

Zhengting is in the middle of swallowing his food. He chokes all of a sudden, leaning forward, his head swiveled to the side. He has one arm braced on the table, his palm flat and pressed harshly against the wood while he hacks violently. “Oh--” he coughs, his voice rasping, “my god,” he finishes, still coughing. His face feels both hot and cold at the same time, probably from shock and the blood rushing underneath his skin as he coughs. Victoria has a very awkward smile on her face, and she pounds on Zhengting’s back repeatedly, murmuring, “I’m sorry, you know how painful mothers can be.”

When he’s finally not hacking violently to the point where it feels like all his organs would spill out of his mouth, he clears his throat, face now very red from his coughing fit, mild embarrassment, and a whole lot of surprise. “You are--” he grunts, “--joking, right?” He tilts his head up and stares at Victoria, his expression unbearably tense. And then glancing right next to her, he sees Justin, who had been silent the whole time, completely frozen in place -- uncomfortably unsure of how to act. But when their gazes meet, he clumsily resumes his movements and shakily scoops another spoonful of soup into his mouth, the clinking of silver against porcelain unbearably loud.

“No,” Victoria sighs. She takes a deep breath.

Zhengting briefly considers whether he’s thankful that his parents don’t have his new phone number or not. He can’t come to a conclusion before Victoria speaks again.

“But you know, I kind of understand her,” she says.

“ _What_?” Zhengting splutters, and he nearly starts choking again, but Victoria holds up her hands, her eyes wide. When a few seconds pass and it seems that Zhengting has calmed a certain amount, she begins to speak slowly.

“You’re twenty-two, Zhengting,” Victoria says, her tone now very serious. “And when was your last relationship?”

“I don’t know, maybe one or two years ago?” he replies. “But why does that matter?”

“That’s a long time, and traditionally in another two years that’s technically the time you are supposed to be getting married, or at least considering it,” Victoria states.

Zhengting huffs. “I’m way too busy for a girlfriend,” he says.

“I know that’s part of it, but that’s why I asked about your social circle,” Victoria replies, and sighs. “You’re in college. It should be easy to meet someone, and even easier to meet someone who has a similar schedule to you, and thus making it easy to work out plans.”

Zhengting stays silent. He glares a little bit at Victoria, but she seems completely unfazed.

“You need to throw yourself out there a little bit, Zhengting. Do you remember why your last girlfriend dumped you?”

He scrunches his nose. Yes, he remembers. Too clearly, in fact. “She said I was too _routine_ ,” he mutters. “Too mellow, too flat.”

“I wouldn’t say flat, because I personally think you’re far from that,” Victoria replies. “But yeah, you see my point?”

Zhengting begrudgingly nods. Yes, he sees her point, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he agrees with it.

“You know, what about Xuanyi?” Victoria suddenly asks.

“What about her?” Zhengting replies.

“Your mother would like her. She’s nice, pretty, and delica--”

“ _Dear god_ , Victoria, you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, right?” Zhengting asks. He suddenly sits up, his posture all of a sudden rigid and straight, completely taken aback by Victoria’s words.

Victoria shrugs, her expression and actions completely nonchalant. “What?” she asks. “She’s only several years older than you, and I’m not joking when I said your mother would like her.”

“Victoria, that is _highly_ inappropriate,” Zhengting replies, an extremely uncomfortable expression on his face. And then he glances at Justin -- _poor Justin_ , he thinks, having to listen in on their conversation. The boy is completely still yet again, but this time his mouth is slightly agape, as if he were about to interrupt and object. Zhengting almost wants him to do so, because not only would being in a relationship with his teacher be very awkward for Zhengting, but he can’t imagine what it would be like for the student himself.

“You’re only there for the rest of the school year,” Victoria says. “You’ll be twenty-three then. Date for two years, get married at twenty-five. That’s your mother’s dream.”

“I--” Zhengting begins, but stops short. It’s a little bit difficult to process anything he wants to say at the moment besides flat out _what the hell?_

“I’m sorry for dropping this all of a sudden on you,” Victoria apologizes. She briefly turns her head, and speaks to Justin too, before turning back around. “But this is the first instance I’ve had enough time to speak face-to-face with you for longer than a minute, and I don’t think texting would’ve been appropriate.”

“It’s--” Zhengting heaves a heavy sigh. “--fine.” His mother was the type to hound him about any sort of issue, especially pertaining to his relationships, whether large or small. It was exactly so when he left for Korea, and it still remains exactly so after he’s returned to China.

“She’s a little bit persistent, I don’t know how much longer I can stall and give her unclear answers,” Victoria says. She looks at Zhengting with her head slightly tilted to the side, very obviously worried. Although Zhengting thought her suggestion was crazy, he understands why she suggested it in the first place. If he was going to be pestered by his mother, then so would she.

“Just tell her that I don’t have a girlfriend,” Zhengting says. “She’ll be unhappy, but I don’t want to jump into a random relationship just for the sake of pleasing her. If she wants to argue with me about it, then tell her she can personally drive down here and speak to me herself.”

“Okay,” Victoria replies, softly. She places a hand on Zhengting’s wrist, and looks him in the eye. “I’m really sorry,” she says, and Zhengting shrugs.

“It’s okay,” he replies. “I’m happy with the life I have now, and I don’t want anything to change.”


	3. 笑

**笑** : _Laughter can become both the antidote and the toxin._

* * *

Zhengting has just entered the school. He's walking down the hallway towards Xuanyi’s classroom. It had been raining that day, and the tile floors are wet with dampened footsteps.

In the distance, he sees Justin and Sicheng ambling down the hall, each with a stack of textbooks in their arms, tall enough to reach their faces. The library is in the opposite direction of where Zhengting's headed, so he assumes that's their destination.

Justin notices him. Their eyes briefly meet as they get closer to each other. Sicheng notices him too, and he shoots him a cheery “Hello Mr. Zhu!” that brings a fleeting smile to Zhengting's face.

They've just passed each other in the hallway, but for some reason Zhengting glances behind him.

And it's a good thing he did, he realizes, because Justin underestimates the distance he’s from from the “caution: wet floor” sign as he walks by. His right leg hits the sign and smacks it onto the floor, but he himself also stutters in his step from the unexpected impact, his sneakers squeaking against the tile as he teeters back and forth.

“Woah--” he begins, the heavy weight of the books in his arms obviously offsetting his balance.

One of the books in the stacks slides off the top, and soon the others begin to slide as well, their movement pulling Justin forward as he tries to catch them. He trips in the process.

But he doesn't fall, because Zhengting's turned around. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s taken a stride forward and hooked his arms under both of Justin's armpits to pull him back up before his knees hit the ground.

The rest of the books except for one barely grasped in Justin’s left hand have fallen onto the floor with a _crash,_ one if them lying open with its pages exposed.

“Holy moly!” Sicheng exclaims, having turned around and set his stack down on the ground. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, a hand placed over his chest. Clearly startled. “I thought for a moment you were going to die, Justin. Thankfully you caught him, Mr. Zhu.” He breathes a sigh of relief as he relaxes his posture, leaning forward and placing both his hands on his thighs before asking Justin if he's okay.

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. He blinks, unsure of what to do as his arms are still hooked around Justin, the latter slumped against him.

“You can let go now,” Justin whispers, after having reassured Sicheng he is okay.

“Right,” Zhengting says as he releases his grip. He hurriedly kneels down and helps gather the rest of the books on the ground, stacking them together and lifting them up before gingerly placing them on top of the lone book in Justin’s hands. “They shouldn’t have you guys carrying such large stacks,” he comments. The books are heavy enough to the point where he has a decent amount of difficulty lifting them up. “What teacher made you do this?”

“Ms. Meng, the pre-calculus teacher,” Sicheng replies. “She wants us to move them because Mr. Lau needs more for his class. But don't worry, we can handle it, we're almost at the library.” He smiles, as if to show off that he's alright.

“Are you sure?” Zhengting asks, and Sicheng nods.

“Thanks for catching Justin and for helping recollect the books,” Sicheng says. “I really thought Justin was going to die for a moment.”

“Stop being dramatic, Sicheng,” Justin mutters, looking pointedly at his friend. “We don’t want to take too long, so we should probably go.”

“Okay, okay,” Sicheng laughs. “We'll see you later, Mr. Zhu.” He turns around, proceeding down the hall.

Justin pauses before following his friend. “Thanks, Zh--Mr. Zhu,” he says, a small smile on his face.

“...Yeah, no problem,” Zhengting replies, after a moment. It feels a little odd to hear Justin call him “Mr. Zhu”, for he’s never really directly interacted with him in class, and Zhengting’s just so accustomed to hear only his first name coming out of Justin’s mouth. Justin pauses again before doing a little jerking motion with his head.

It's his attempt as waving, Zhengting realizes, because his hands are full. Zhengting laughs softly, lifting up his own hand and offering a small wave of his own before turning around and walking down the hallway.

* * *

When Zhengting sees Xuanyi, his conversation with Victoria replays in his head.

Xuanyi is pretty -- that fact is completely undeniable. They're friends. He likes her, she likes him.

But when Zhengting tries to imagine himself in some sort of relationship with her, he comes up short.

In the past, when he's been in love and had stupid crushes, imagining cutesy and romantic scenarios of him with whatever person was on his heart at that time made him a bit excited and giddy.

But then, when he imagines he and Xuanyi going for coffee together, holding hands, sharing an umbrella, and giving each other kisses in the morning, he feels completely blank. Emotionless, even. As if those kinds of thoughts don't have anything to do with him.

He shrugs, and just ignores the idea for the rest of the day.

* * *

“If you need help with the matches, Mr. Zhu and I will be available,” Xuanyi says. She stands at the front of the room, a pair of goggles stuck on her forehead, her arms tucked behind her back. “I won’t allow any of you to light the flames until everybody’s got their goggles on, okay? You guys can go now, get your supplies. The matches are up here at the front, and the glassware and candles should be on the counter next to your lab tables.”

The students push back their chairs, clamoring to the black counters in the back and to the sides of the classroom before pulling out drawers and sorting through their contents for their eyewear. Zhengting ambles over to stand next to Xuanyi.

“So I guess I basically wait now and make sure nothing catches on fire?” he asks, and Xuanyi nods. She lifts her hand, and taps on the goggles sitting on her forehead with her index finger.

“Just make sure if you go back there you’ve got these on,” she reminds. “I know it’s annoying to wear them, and it might feel like you don’t need to, but I don’t want to be liable for any accidents.” Xuanyi laughs awkwardly and turns around, crossing her arms. “I’ve got a few emails to finish writing, do you mind watching over them for a little bit?”

“Yeah, no problem. That’s my job, after all,” Zhengting replies. Xuanyi shakes her head at his response, but she just waves him off as she walks away.

Zhengting slips on his goggles and slowly makes his way around the perimeter the room, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his pants. There’s students scattered everywhere, some rearranging the glassware at tables while waiting for their partner to get a pack of matches, while some just stand there chattering away.

“Xiubin,” he says, and the girl in question turns her head to look at him. “If Xiatian going to light the wick, you have to have your goggles on and not lean in so close or your face might get burnt,” he reminds her. Her lips quickly form into a small “o”, before she grabs at the goggles hanging around her neck and with some clumsy difficulty slides them on and over her braids.

Zhengting continues walking around. He’s probably somewhere on his second lap when Junkai runs up to him and asks him to help with lighting a match. Coincidentally, he and his partner Yuan are on the opposite side of Justin and Sicheng, the black counter being split in half by an elevated surface that runs down the middle of the table. A few beakers rest on top of it -- probably drying from the experiments from previous classes.

“We both already tried,” Junkai says, “but the thing won’t light itself.” He hands Zhengting the pack of matches.

Zhengting tries, first by the traditional way of scraping the match head against the chemical strip, and then by folding the match packet over in an attempt to apply more pressure to the match. But for some reason, it just doesn’t light.

“Huh,” he says, flipping the packet over. “Yours might be dead. Let me go get the lighter.” He sets down the packet, and turns around.

“Oooh,” he hears Junkai murmur behind him as he heads towards the counter near the front of the class. He glances back, smiling and says, “Don’t get too excited, you’re not going to be the one using it.”

Xuanyi looks up at him from her computer when he nears her. “Something wrong?” she asks.

Zhengting shakes his head. “No, I just need the lighter,” he says. “It’s in one of these drawers, right?”

“Uhh,” Xuanyi begins, “be careful, Zhengting. I trust you, but since I don’t smoke I only have a gas lighter.”

“Oh,” Zhengting replies. “Yeah, I’ll be careful. It’s in this one, right?” he asks, pointing at the leftmost drawer, and Xuanyi nods.

When Zhengting returns back to Junkai’s lab table, he and Yuan look positively excited. Even Sicheng and Justin, who have already lit their candles and started their stopwatches, look over in interest.

“Shoo,” Zhengting says, waving the two boys to the side, “the flame on this thing is large, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

The two boys step aside, letting Zhengting move in front of them, their eyes still intent on his actions. “Which jar do you guys need?” he asks, holding out the lighter with his right hand, right above the candle he intends to light, as he turns his head to glance at the two boys.

“The 500mL one,” Yuan replies.

Zhengting nods, and he has to turn his torso almost a full one-eighty in order to reach  behind him to grab a jar.

But as he turns, something, or more like _someone_ , grabs ahold of his right wrist and forcefully bends his arm up, simultaneously lifting it higher in the air. “Zhe-- You--” he hears, and as he quickly turns around the grip on his arm is released.

Justin stares at him, his hands placed in front of him on the table counter. But he’s leaning forward at a steep angle, looking a little surprised. “You were going to knock down the beakers,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

Zhengting glances from where his arm is still, raised in mid-air, and then to Justin, who now looks ever-so-slightly nervous. The other three boys around them are paused, looking between Justin and Zhengting. “No, it’s fine,” Zhengting replies, slowly letting his arm down, “if I knocked them over that would’ve been a mess to clean up. Thanks, for uh, helping me."

“Oh,” Justin says, his posture relaxing a little bit, “you’re welcome.”

Zhengting reaches back behind him to grab a jar, this time careful of where he’s placing his limbs.

Although Sicheng’s voice is low, it’s still loud enough for Zhengting to hear. “What was that? You don’t just grab teachers, man!” he exclaims. Justin replies, not even a second later, “I don’t know, what was I _supposed_ to do? Did you want to clean up broken glass?” Sicheng pauses, before saying, “Well, no.”

“Boys, are your flames already out?” Zhengting asks, his voice purposely a little bit louder and a little bit teasing, as he carefully places the tip of the lighter in his hand above the wick of a candle, the glass jar held in his other hand.

“Oh crap,” Sicheng says, “crap, Justin, do you know what time that was?”

“Sicheng, I thought you were supposed to be the one recording the time,” Justin replies, simply.

“You--” Sicheng begins, but he sighs, and says, “I’m going to get another match."

When Zhengting’s finished helping Junkai and Yuan, he walks away, laughing. Xuanyi approaches him and has to ask him if something actually caught on fire, but he just shakes his head.

* * *

“Ay, how's it going?”

“Pretty okay, actually, I'm not drowning for once,” Zhengting replies, scratching his head.

“I'm glad to hear that. You coming back for break?” Seunghyuk asks. He reclines back, casually throwing an arm above his head.

“Isn't it too early to think about that?” Zhengting replies.

Seunghyuk laughs. “Nah, it's only a month,” he says. “You should really come visit, we can go out drinking since soju becomes so cheap around this time of the year.”

Zhengting grins. “I like how you think, but that's going to entirely depend on how many responsibilities I have then. Anyways, how are the rest of the gang?”

Seunghyuk pauses. His gaze briefly flickers to somewhere beyond the screen of his phone. “Well,” he begins, “Hyeongseop is--”

“Hellooooo!” Hyeongseop yells, flinging himself into Seunghyuk's side. Seunghyuk yelps and drops his phone, the screen automatically filling with black, and all Zhengting can hear for several seconds is a bunch of rustling noises and cursing.

“I am wonderful,” Hyeongseop says, picking up Seunghyuk's phone and grinning. He holds the phone so close to him that his face takes up the entirety of Zhengting's screen.

“He recently got a girlfriend,” Seunghyuk says, pulling his phone from Hyeongseop’s hand. For some reason, he begins to cackle madly. Zhengting looks extremely confused, becoming much more confused when he hears someone yell in the background, “For the love of god, hyung, I am _not_ a girl!”

Oddly enough, it sounds like Euiwoong.

“I thought you were supposed to be shy?” Seunghyuk yells back, a stupidly wide smile on his face.

“Not when you sully my dignity!”

“Stop bullying him,” Hyeongseop scolds, lightly pinching Seunghyuk's cheek, “he's still tender.”

“ _Oh my god,_ did you just call me _tender_?”

“That's not--” Zhengting furrows his brows. “--Euiwoong, is it?”

“No, it is,” Seunghyuk replies, his lips still stretched wide.

“But you are my tender love,” Hyeongseop replies. He gazes at something beyond the phone screen. There's a dumb-looking smile on his face. It kind of reminds Zhengting of that lazily happy and relaxed expression his friend would get when he's had a little too much to drink. He starts laughing madly because Hyeongseop's face only becomes more serene when Euiwoong begins to growl.

“I swear, hyung, I will break up with you right here and now if you don't stop your nonsen--”

“Nooooo, nooooo,” Hyeongseop says, the look on his face all of a sudden absolutely dejected. He rises from the couch, leaving the screen. Zhengting hears his footsteps in the background.

“Disgusting,” Seunghyuk comments. He switches to his rear-facing camera, and Zhengting sees Hyeongseop petting Euiwoong’s hair while the latter stands stock-still, his face scrunched up and glaring at his hyung.

By that point, Zhengting is laughing so hard his stomach hurts and his face is tense.

“Right?” Seunghyuk says. “Please tell me you agree.” He switches back to his front-facing camera, looking extremely uncomfortable in a comical way. His lips are curled back and downturned, revealing his teeth while his nose is scrunched and eyes are narrowed. The expression is so exaggerated that Zhengting laughs even harder, leaning forward so much that the picture of himself in the bottom corner of his screen only shows part of his forehead and the top of his head.

“What's so funny?”

Seunghyuk raises his brows for a moment. “Huh? I hear Chinese,” he says.

Zhengting takes a deep breath, his lips a little strained but refusing to fall from a smile, and looks up towards his right. “My friends just have a few struggles in life, that's all,” he replies.

“Oh,” Justin says. “I see.” He rests his elbows on the top of the couch, his arms dangling while one hand grasps a water bottle.

“Hey, who's that?” Seunghyuk asks. “I thought you were home alone?”

“Nah,” Zhengting replies, “I'm babysitting Victoria's son.”

“Oh,” Seunghyuk replies. “Hi! If you can see and hear me, I'm Seunghyuk, Zhengting's Korean friend!” he says, having switched to Chinese.

“He can speak Chinese?” Justin asks.

“Yup, I can!” Seunghyuk replies.

Justin looks shocked for a second, as he probably wasn't anticipating Seunghyuk to be able to understand him and reply fluently.

“That's his major,” Zhengting says. “Come on,” he begins, motioning with his hand for Justin to lean down, “say hi.”

“W-What--” Justin startles, “--no,” he says, and quickly dodges Zhengting's attempt at grabbing his arm. He hurriedly shuffles away to the other end of the couch.

Zhengting laughs. “Sorry, he's shy.” He shrugs, and Seunghyuk smiles.

“I understand,” he says. “It's okay if he doesn't want to be seen.”

But Zhengting is still looking down the couch. “Oh come on,” he pleads, “just for a second?”

Justin stares, his eyes narrowed and silent. His arms are bent in front of his torso, unsure of what to do.

“You already saw him. It's only fair he gets to see you,” Zhengting adds, when it doesn't seem like Justin intends to move.

“...Okay, fine,” Justin lets up, after a few more moments. He sits on the couch and carefully scoots next to Zhengting.

Zhengting smiles, laughing softly at the gingerness of Justin's actions.

“This is Huang Justin,” he introduces, when half of Justin's face is in the screen. The boy squirms, shifting out of frame, but Zhengting just leans a little bit to his left, hooking their elbows so Justin can't escape, and angles his laptop so that both of their faces are within view.

“Hi!” Seunghyuk says, grinning brightly as he waves. “Don't be shy, I don't bite!”

“...Hello,” Justin replies, slowly turning his head around and blinking.

“It's nice to finally meet you! Zhengting sometimes talks about you,” Seunghyuk says.

“Really?” Justin replies. And then, he quietly asks, “What does he say?”

“I swear, Seunghyuk, if you say something bad--” Zhengting begins, in Korean.

“He says you're a real good kid and very smart,” Seunghyuk says, without hesitation.

Zhengting takes a breath. It's not a lie. He smiles, glad that Hyeongseop is the one Seunghyuk normally picks on and not him.

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, and then he turns and looks at Zhengting. “Thanks,” he says.

Zhengting smiles and pats him on the knee.

“He also said you're really tall. And I guess he wasn't lying at all.” Seunghyuk laughs.

“Yeah, you see?” Zhengting replies. He lifts his left hand up and gently places it on top of Justin's head. He almost expects the boy to squirm given how uncomfortable he'd been a mere minute or two ago, but much to Zhengting’s surprise, he doesn't flinch at all.“We're basically the same height.”

“It's really uncommon to find someone as tall as Zhengting and I!” Seunghyuk exclaims.

“Really?” Justin asks.

“Seunghyuk is 185cm,” Zhengting says. “Taller than both of us.”

“Wow,” Justin breathes, his eyes widening a little bit. “Everyone calls me a giant, and Zhengting is the first person I've met that's taller than me.”

“I understand,” Seunghyuk chuckles, “I got called that a lot growing up too. But now you've met another person taller than you!”

“Oh?” someone says, and without a moment’s notice Hyeongseop has reappeared, sticking his face in between the phone and Seunghyuk. “You're speaking Chinese. Who's that, Seunghyuk?”

“Justin, Victoria's son,” Seunghyuk replies.

At the same time, Justin turns and murmurs to Zhengting, “Who is he?”

“My other friend,” Zhengting replies. “He doesn't know much Chinese, though.”

“Ooooh,” Hyeongseop murmurs, staring curiously, “he has a squishy face like Woong. Kinda cute.”

“Hyeongseop, don't prey on minors,” Seunghyuk says, jokingly, shoving Hyeongseop to the side by his shoulder.

“What did you say about meee?” Euiwoong asks, still somewhere in the background.

“Stop trying to seek validation, Woong!” Seunghyuk replies at the same time Hyeongseop coos, “Don't get jealous, you're the cutest in my heart!”

Zhengting starts laughing again, because Seunghyuk's face crumples and Hyeongseop makes him cringe unbearably with the words that come out of his mouth.

“What'd he say?” Justin asks.

“Ah,” Zhengting begins, trying to catch his breath. “He said you're cute.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, and for a second he looks confused, unsure of what to say. He slowly turns back to the camera. “T-Tha--” he begins, a shaky attempt at Korean, but Hyeongseop interrupts him with a wide grin.

“No problem!” he replies, in very terribly pronounced Chinese.

Zhengting looks over, and Justin is leaning out of the frame. His head is turned, and his shoulders shake -- he's doing his best to hide his laughter. “I d-don't want to be rude,” he stutters out. “This guy is hilarious.” But Zhengting has long ago started laughing along with him.

“What’s so funny?” Hyeongseop asks, completely oblivious.

Zhengting shakes his head. “N-Nothing,” he replies, through uneven breaths.

* * *

Zhengting madly types on the keyboard, the sound of his fingers tapping against the keys a drumming of _pit-pats_ and clicking noises from his space-bar. The sentences he’s written are riddled with typos, but he presses enter anyways, letting out a particularly loud laugh when he hears Seunghyuk curse.

“Yeah, fuck, I pressed the wrong button. Euiwoong, where the literal fuck are you? Come and rez me! Also, Jung Jung, use your mic, your typing is annoying.”

“If I speak, then Hyeongseop can’t hear me,” Zhengting says. He sees Seunghyuk in the corner of his screen, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back.

“Who gives a crap about Hyeongseop?”

“I do!” Hyeongseop cries. If they were in the same room, Zhengting thinks, Seunghyuk would’ve been physically attacked by now.

Seunghyuk rolls his eyes once more, and sighs. “This is why I quit these games a long time ago. It’s too stressful for my old soul.”

“You never got good anyways,” Hyeongseop retorts.

“Your job--” Seunghyuk growls, staring back at the screen, “--is to carry Euiwoong. But I don’t see a person on your lazy dragon ass.”

“Because he dropped me somewhere,” Euiwoong says, quietly, as if very unsure if it were a good idea to tread into Seunghyuk and Hyeongseop’s conversation. His mouth is stretched into an uncomfortable expression, halfway between a wince and a smile. “Pretty sure I’m in one of those glitched crevices near Frostwall, because my whole screen is just filled with white.”

Hyeongseop turns, staring at Euiwoong, and looks absolutely offended. “You were the one that dismounted!” he cries.

“You two--” Seunghyuk begins, his mouth pursed in a flat line, “--do I really need to--”

Zhengting doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence, because he shifts his position and falls backwards, limp, onto his couch and lies there, his laptop still sitting on his thighs, before taking a deep breath. “I should have refused,” he murmurs, but the other three don’t hear him amidst their picking at each other. He closes his eyes and sighs, momentarily thinking that Seunghyuk isn’t the old man of the group, despite his claims of having an old soul -- instead, it’s probably Zhengting himself.

“Are you okay?”

Zhengting slowly opens one eye. He quickly opens both when he realizes the owner of the two large, unblinking eyes and concerned stare hovering over him.

“How in the world did you get here?” he asks, startled.

“Uh…” Justin scratches his head. “I knocked, but there was no answer. And then I heard some loud yelling, and your door was unlocked. So I opened it a little bit and you were just lying here so--”

Zhengting interrupts him with sudden laughter. It’s surprising, and simultaneously kind of endearing, that Justin was worried enough to come and check if Zhengting was alright despite the fact that he isn’t really one to tread others’ spaces unless instructed. But, Zhengting considers, maybe they’ve both just simply gotten used to being around each other -- at this point, he probably has lived half his time in China on Victoria's couch.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Zhengting replies, after his laughter has calmed down, “th--”

“Sorry for intruding,” Justin quickly says, straightening his back suddenly and taking a step back. “I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I can leave now if you want me to.”

“Geez, no, it’s fine,” Zhengting replies, waving his hands at Justin. “Victoria isn’t home, is she?”

Justin shakes his head.

“Then feel free to stay. I’m not doing much anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Justin glances at presumably Zhengting’s laptop screen.

Zhengting winces. “Well…” he begins, “those three have a long weekend, and Hyeongseop and Euiwoong magically came up with the idea to drag Seunghyuk and I back into _World of Warcraft_.”

Justin raises an eyebrow. His expression seems to have changed, now no longer worried or startled like before. “You know, Sicheng taught me how to play that game once,” he says, “but his parents cut off his subscription before every school year because they don’t want him to get addicted.”

“Oh?” Zhengting murmurs. “Do you have a subscription?”

“Not since last year,” Justin replies, “I just like WoW for the lore. And I like to watch the gameplay sometimes.”

Zhengting is about to agree, but he hears a shrill “Jung Juuuuung!” coming from his laptop. The pitch of the noise, coupled with the fact that Zhengting’s volume had been turned up relatively loud, sends harsh ringing in his ears and vibrations in his head.

He suddenly sits up. “Christ, who was that?” he asks, wincing and rubbing his ear.

“Okay, good, you’re still alive,” Euiwoong says, breathing a sigh of relief. “Hyeongseop and Seunghyuk won’t stop fighting, can you please help?”

Zhengting rolls his eyes, muttering, “Hold on”. “I’m sorry I don’t really have anything interesting to do,” he says, to Justin. “You can come and watch, and I’ll do my best translating things.”

Justin shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says, taking a seat next to Zhengting. “It’s better than just doing nothing. And besides, even though I can’t understand them, your friends are funny.”

“Thanks,” Seunghyuk says, in Chinese, having heard Justin’s words.

“What’d he say?” Hyeongseop asks.

Seunghyuk smiles. “He said you’re weird.” Hyeongseop’s mouth instantly drops into an “o” and he freezes all his movement, unsure of what to say or act, until Euiwoong nudges him and says, “You know hyung is just lying, right? Seunghyuk-hyung, you forgot I know Chinese at like, CSL level two.” Hyeongseop’s face instantly begins to fume again after hearing Euiwoong's words.

“Please stop,” Zhengting pleads, exasperated.

“Oh, your game is still in Chinese,” Justin comments, leaning slightly forward so that his shoulder presses against Zhengting’s arm, staring at the screen.

“Yeah,” Zhengting replies, and laughs, “because if I have to learn over all the terms in Korean I’d probably cry.”

“True,” Justin murmurs. “What're you trying to do now?”

Zhengting opens up the game’s map.

And then, he hangs his head when he sees that Seunghyuk was somehow at the northernmost edge of the zone, Hyeongseop a league behind him, and Zhengting is the one closest to Euiwoong nearing the bottom of the map.

“Well, I guess now I'm not sure,” he replies. “You guys are very helpful,” he sarcastically drawls at his friends.

Seunghyuk sighs heavily, leaning back. His head disappears out of view, because he's thrown his head and neck over the top of his chair, hanging there for the next few seconds.

“Hyeongseop, please fly back and get Euiwoong. Jung Jung too while you're at it. I'm at the next NPC. We can probably get Woong’s character to max within the next hour or two and start gearing him if everything goes smoothly,” Seunghyuk says. He lifts himself back up, and pleads, “Please go smoothly.”

Hyeongseop laughs. “I'm going,” he says, “just give me a few minutes.”

For the next few hours, Justin earnestly watches Zhengting play. He's much more talkative than any other time they've done something together, Zhengting realizes, but that's probably because of the nature of the game and the fact that he’s familiar with its gameplay. Seunghyuk tries to engage him in conversation with Hyeongseop and Euiwoong as well, which is only moderately successful because sometimes he can't quite translate terms such as “ _Wastes Rockworm <Child of Shui Halad>_” into Chinese.

Sometimes Justin will get up from the couch, disappear out Zhengting’s door before Zhengting can ask why, and return a minute later with something in his hands and a smile on his face. Bags of taro chips, cans of pearl tea. He even brings down a whole round tin of sponge cake.

“Do you want me to cook?” Zhengting asks, as he glances back and forth between the tin and Justin's face. Through the computer, Hyeongseop whines, “I want cake too.”

“No,” Justin replies. “Do you want cake?” He holds out the tin towards Zhengting.

“Sure,” Zhengting replies. “Let me get a spoon.” He returns a minute later, sitting down and carving himself a piece of the cake from the tin still held in Justin's hands.

“Victoria made this?” he asks, and Justin shakes his head.

“The lady at the market bakery down the street,” he begins, “she likes my mom so she gives her discounts sometimes.”

Zhengting hums, he and Justin continuing eating while Zhengting maneuvers around his character slowly with one hand, the other absentmindedly scooping himself more cake. Sometimes he isn't careful and he drops bits and crumbs on himself, but he doesn't mind since he tells himself he'll clean it up later.

But he doesn't really have to, because Justin reaches over picks up a few crumbs, intending to put them in his hand, although some of them  accidentally roll away and fall onto the floor.

“You're going to have to sweep that up later,” Zhengting says, obviously joking, but his voice and face remain serious.

“Okay,” Justin replies, without hesitation.

Zhengting can't keep his composure anymore. He starts laughing, bowing his head for a second because he can't stand looking at the startled expression on Justin's face, only to see it hasn't changed when he lifts back up his head.

“I'm joking, I'm joking,” he says. “They'll probably be caught while I clean this place in the future.”

Although he himself probably doesn’t realize it, Justin’s shoulders and facial muscles visibly relax when he hears Zhengting’s words. He simply says, “Okay. Good.”

An hour or so later, and Zhengting's phone buzzes with a new text. Lifting up his phone, he sees Victoria's name on the screen. “Do you mind?” he asks, looking at Justin, his hand placed on the side of his laptop with the intention to turn it.

Justin shakes his head, and so Zhengting rotates his laptop so the boy can control the character on the screen.

 _Song Victoria (19:26):_ He's at your place, isn't he?

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:27):_ Yup!

 _Song Victoria (19:27):_ Oh, thank goodness. What are you two doing?

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:28):_ Playing a video game with my friends in Korea.

 _Song Victoria (19:28):_ Oh, that's nice. Glad you two are spending time together. Have you guys eaten yet?

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:29):_...he brought down some snacks and a tin of cake.

 _Song Victoria (19:29):_ That's not healthy, Zhengting. You need to eat a proper meal. Since he's already down there, I'll be at your place within the next five minutes.

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:30):_ …did you just imply that you want me to cook?

 _Song Victoria (19:30):_ Of course, why else would I just invite myself into your home?

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:30):_ …

 _Song Victoria (19:31):_ :)

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:31):_ I'm surprised you know how to use emojis.

 _Song Victoria (19:31):_ Are you implying that I'm old?

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:32):_ Of course, why else would I be surprised that you know how to use emojis?

 _Song Victoria (19:32):_ …

 _Zhu Zhengting (19:32):_ :)

“Welp, looks like I've gotta get up and cook,” Zhengting says, setting down his phone. “Your mother is going to be here any minute. You can keep on playing if you want,” he tells Justin.

For a second Justin looks conflicted, glancing back at the screen and then at Zhengting, his lips pursed.

“Please,” Seunghyuk says, “I need someone here who isn't annoying.”

“Okay,” Justin replies, “I'll stay.” He speaks the same time Euiwoong asks, in Korean, “Are you grouping me with Hyeongseop-hyung?”

Seunghyuk simply narrows his eyes and stays silent.

There's a firm knock at the door the second after, and Zhengting lifts his laptop off of his thighs, placing it in Justin's lap. “Well, that's Victoria,” he says, standing up and stretching his body as he walks over to his door. One side of his back cracks as he opens the door, and he winces, because it's both painful and relieving at the same time.

“Are you that displeased to see me?” Victoria asks. She stares, disapproving.

“No.” Zhengting hurriedly shakes his head. “I just popped something in my back.”

Victoria laughs a second later. “Please don't tell me you're getting feeble, I still need you to take care of my son for me,” she says, jokingly. She sidesteps him, inviting herself into his apartment.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Nah, I'll be okay for at least another few years,” he replies.

“Sounds promising,” Victoria comments, “being old and weak at twenty-five.”

Zhengting shuts the door behind him, a silly smile on his face. “If I'm lucky, maybe I can push until twenty-six.”

Victoria laughs at his statement. She leans over Zhengting's couch, watching her son for a moment before leaning down more until her head is level with Justin's. “Hi, Minghao, I'm home,” she says.

Justin looks over. “Oh, welcome back, mom,” he replies.

“Waaah, who's that? She's really pretty,” Hyeongseop says.

Zhengting wants to bang his forehead against the wall.


	4. 同

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I fucked up  
> sorry guys chapters 4 and 5 are supposed to be switched around... 5 comes before 4, rip  
> so yeah if you've been following this and there's a weird inconsistency in time, please forgive me hahahahaha

**同** :  _Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is find someone who is nothing like you._

* * *

Victoria manages to maintain a consistent schedule, for the most part. Zhengting doesn't see Justin as often outside of school, but sometimes there are unexpected late nights for Victoria and her son ends up wandering into Zhengting's apartment later in the evening. Zhengting even jokes he should make a copy of his key for Justin, but the boy doesn't pick up on the joke and insists that Zhengting needn't.

Everything goes quite well until several weeks later.

“Minghao, come here.”

“Why?”

“I have something important I need to tell you.”

Justin wanders over to where his mother is sitting at her desk. “What is it?” he asks.

Victoria sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair, before looking up at Justin. There's disappointment and exhaustion in her eyes, maybe even a little guilt. The exhaustion is normal, Justin knows, but the disappointment and guilt make him uneasy.

“They want me in Singapore for the next several weeks, because campaign intensity is kicking up real fast around this time of the year, and they're in the process of moving the staff.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. “Does that include…?”

Victoria sighs. She knows what Justin is referring to even though he didn't say it. “Yes it does. I'm sorry, but I won't be back until the 28th or 29th.”

Justin stays silent. His mother's words don't hurt him or make him particularly sad… but there's still that small seed of disappointment in his chest. He knows that the recent expansion of her business’s success will keep her away from home more often, but in the past years she's made it a point to spend the holidays at home. He doesn't know what to say.

Victoria smiles softly, sorrowfully, and holds Justin's hands in her own. “I know you're used to being home alone overnight, but since it's such a long time, I want you to stay with Zhengting,” she says. “You don't need to sleep at his place, but just be there during the daytime, alright? I’ll ask him to give you things to do.”

“Alright.” Justin nods.

Victoria stands up, and she pulls her son into an embrace. “I'm really sorry, Minghao, I am,” she murmurs. “I wish I could do better as a mom.”

Justin just buries his face into her hair, and slowly shakes his head.

He knows how much his mother loves him, and he loves her too, but their love is primarily born from a mutual understanding of having to emotionally and mentally sustain each other, rather than the typical mother-son bond one would expect when a woman holds the hand of her son and kisses him on both of his cheeks on his first day of school.

* * *

Zhengting is sitting across from Justin, helping the boy work out some seven layer math problem, when his phone rings and an unfamiliar number flashes on the screen.

Because Zhengting is young and grew up in the modern world, he answers calls from unfamiliar phone numbers. “Hello?” he says.

“Zhengting-ah, did you get my message from Song Qian?”

Zhengting all of a sudden feels extremely nervous. Justin looks up, having noticed the change in atmosphere.

That voice, that very slightly condescending and expectant tone… it only matches one woman Zhengting knows.

“...Mother?” he says, slowly.

“Yes, it's your mother! Now, answer me, did you get my message from Song Qian?”

Zhengting visibly gulps. “I'm sorry,” Justin mouths at him, and Zhengting sighs, placing his forehead in his hand.

“Yes, I did,” he replies gruffly. How in the world did his mother get his phone number? Zhengting considers it might be Victoria; but then again, his mother has ways of asking around. For all he knows, it could’ve even been Professor Liu that gave her Zhengting’s phone number.

“Now, what is this do I hear about you not having a girlfriend? Zhengting, you're a man already! You are at that stage of your life where you should be thinking about marriage!” his mother exclaims.

“Victoria already gave me that speech,” Zhengting replies. He wants to growl his words and hang up on his mother, but he knows she's undyingly persistent.

“She has some sense, unlike you!” his mother chides. Zhengting just sighs into his palm. “If you want your dad and I to find a nice girl here in Beijing--”

“Mother, the answer Victoria gave you is the only answer I have. I'm not interested in getting into another relationship at the moment, and I don't plan to for a while,” Zhengting explains.

“But Zhengting, imagine how happy you could be with a girlfriend! And besides, I'm not going to live forever. I want to see my grandchildren at least once in my lifetime.”

“Mother, you are not going to die for at least another couple of decades, that’s plenty of time,” Zhengting mutters. Justin gives him a weird look, but Zhengting waves him off. “I appreciate your advice, but I'm still adamant on my previous answer.”

“Zhengting-ah, why are you so stubborn? I'm only trying to help.”

“I know, but as of right now I don't need any help.”

“This is why--”

“Mother, I'm going to hang up. Please don't call me back, I assure you I am _perfectly fine and healthy and happy._ ”

“Wh--”

Zhengting presses the end call button on his screen.

And then, sure enough, as he expected, his phone rings again the next moment. From the same unfamiliar number. He instantly presses the decline call button. He briefly considers blocking the number, but his mother is still his mother, and what if something actually important came up?

“I’m sorry,” Justin says. He looks at Zhengting with a worried smile on his face.

Zhengting just sighs, muttering, “Can't do anything about it.” He all of a sudden feels exhausted -- although he does love his mother, every time she tries to implement herself into his personal life it's like fighting an uphill battle, leaving him completely drained of energy at the end.

“Victoria doesn't nag you like this, does she?” Zhengting asks, suddenly. He highly doubts it, but mothers are persistent in general.

Justin shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says. “I think she talks to you about your love life more than she does to me.”

“Really?” Zhengting replies. He raises an eyebrow. “That's shocking.”

“Well, she did try talk to me about it once, but then I think she gave up because I kept on giving her stupid answers,” Justin notes. He laughs a bit, looking up at Zhengting with a little smile on his face.

“Like what?” Zhengting asks.

“She asked me if any girls approached me,” Justin begins. “I told her no, and then she asked me if I liked anyone. I told her no again, and then she asked me why nothing was happening because I'm tall and handsome and perfectly smart. I told her that I didn't particularly care, and then she said that it's odd that I didn't care because I'm a teenage boy.” Justin pauses, and the smile on his face grows. “I told her if she really wanted me to date someone I could try to date Sicheng.”

“You _what_?” Zhengting asks.

Justin starts giggling, a few soft bouts of laughter escaping his lips. “And then she hit me on the arm and told me Sicheng is a rascal and no matter what gender he is she would disown me if I ever dated him.”

Zhengting starts laughing too. That sounds like a very classic response from Victoria. He briefly wonders if Justin ever did feel anything for his friend, but the way the boy's laughing and how nonchalantly he recalled the story tells Zhengting he was joking throughout the whole ordeal.

“But really,” Zhengting begins, “it is odd. When I was your age, if I wasn't thinking about schoolwork or food I was thinking about girls.”

“Eh.” Justin shrugs. “Seeking romance isn't my thing,” he says. “Sicheng thinks it's weird too, because he talks about pretty girls all the time to me but I genuinely don't care.” He pauses, and props up his elbow on his knee, resting his cheek on his palm as he looks at Zhengting with an unconcerned expression on his face. “I think if I'm going to fall in love with someone, I'll just wait for the day where we'll naturally meet and I won't have to go pursue anyone.”

“I wish my mother thought like you,” Zhengting says.

They both start laughing.

* * *

It’s nearing one in the morning, and Zhengting is in his room, his laptop sitting on his desk as he stares critically at the almost-blank word document in front of him. The cursor, sitting in the middle of an unfinished sentence, blinks mockingly at him. It’s his last essay he needs to do for finals week -- he wanted to power through it that night, but the previous one took him longer than he expected.

The only light in the room is coming from his computer screen, because he’s both too lazy and too tired to bother getting up to turn on his floor lamp. He sits, stuck in a daze, hands resting idly on his keyboard.

He’s only thrown out of his trance when a pair of hands come to rest gently on his shoulders.

“Need any help?”

Zhengting shakes slightly, quickly turning his head. “I thought you were still talking with Sicheng,” he says, quietly, when he notices who it is.

Justin leans over his shoulder, staring at Zhengting’s laptop screen before turning his head to meet the latter’s eyes. “No,” he says, shaking his head, “he disconnected a while ago. I think his parents cut off his wi-fi for the night.”

Zhengting smiles. Poor Sicheng, he always gets picked on by his parents. “That’s unfortunate,” he says.

Justin just shrugs. “So yeah, do you need any help? You’ve been stuck in your room for like, the past three or four hours. I thought you might’ve fallen asleep at your desk.”

“Al--” Zhengting yawns, “--most. I just need to finish this last essay before I’m done with all the writing for my finals. The last one took me longer than I thought.”

“I’m sorry for taking so much of your time earlier today,” Justin apologizes. “I know your tests are next week.”

Zhengting just lazily waves. “I would've still had to stay up this late anyways,” he mutters.

Justin sighs, straightening his back, his hands still on Zhengting's shoulders. “Thanks for helping me, Zhengting. With everything, even though you probably have way more important things to do. I don't know if I've ever said that.”

A soft smile appears on Zhengting's lips. “Well, you have before,” he begins, “just not like that. And besides, you are important to me. Just in a different sense than my schoolwork.”

“Really?” Justin murmurs.

“Yes.”

“Oh, thank you.” Justin breaks out in a yawn the second after.

Zhengting laughs softly. “You should probably go home and sleep. I'm surprised you're still here, I thought you would've left a while ago.”

“Was waiting for you to finish your work,” Justin murmurs. “Didn't want to go without saying goodbye, but didn't want to bother you either. You were in here for so long I thought you were really deep into your work.”

“Sort of,” Zhengting says, glancing back at his computer. “But it's really late now, and you're tired. Don't worry about me, just go sleep.”

Justin sighs. “Alright,” he whispers. Clearly, the kid is pretty tired, Zhengting notices. Justin falls forward, his cheek resting on top of Zhengting's hair. His arms drape themselves over Zhengting's shoulders, elbows bent in a lazy hug. “Thanks again,” he murmurs.

Zhengting can only smile gently and reach up his hands to pat Justin's wrists.

“By the way, can you make red bean pancakes? I want to eat them for breakfast,” Justin whispers.

“Doesn't your mother not allow you to eat sweets in the morning?” Zhengting replies.

Justin shakes his head. “She's not here,” he murmurs. “Only you're here.” His voice is soft, airy almost. Zhengting thinks it's a combination of his exhaustion and his attempt at being cheeky.

Well, it works. “In that case, okay,” Zhengting complies, a small smile still on his face.

“Great,” Justin replies. “Good night,” he says, his arms giving Zhengting a small squeeze before he retracts himself. “Don't sleep too late,” he reminds, “or else we might end up eating pancakes for lunch.”

“Noted,” Zhengting laughs, “good night, Justin. Sleep well.”

The boy hums contentedly in response. He ambles out of Zhengting's room, and some seconds later Zhengting hears his door open and close.

* * *

Well, it is basically lunch by the time Zhengting wakes up.

“You look absolutely terrible,” Justin says, when Zhengting opens his door.

“Thanks,” Zhengting mutters, one eye squinted and the other eye closed because the sunlight simply hurts his vision and the sleep hasn’t yet cleared from his eyes. He hasn’t seen himself in the mirror, only just having woken up from the knocking at his door. But he figures that since he actually _did_ fall asleep on his desk and then woke up some hours later to groggily throw himself onto his bed, his hair is probably sticking up everywhere and there might be an imprint on the side of his face from his wrinkly pillowcase.

“What time is it?” he asks, still a little dazed. And then he adds, with a sigh, “I really should just give you a copy of my key.”

“It’s just past twelve,” Justin replies, simply.

Zhengting instantly opens his eyes. He immediately regrets that decision, because the corners of his eyes feel like they’re cracking, and coupled with the sunlight, everything now hurts.

“You should probably close the door,” Justin notes. “You look like you’re in pain.”

“Yeah,” Zhengting mutters, as he steps aside to let Justin in, bringing a hand up to rub vigorously at his eyes, “I am.”

Justin laughs softly at his response.

“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” Zhengting asks. “It’s like, lunchtime, and I promised you I’d make you pancakes for _breakfast_.”

“Well, I tried,” Justin replies. “Check your phone, Zhengting.”

And sure enough, when Zhengting ambles back to his bedroom and looks at his phone screen, there’s a text from Justin at 11 -- _Are you awake yet?_ And then another, thirty minutes later -- _How about now?_

“Aw, man, I’m sorry,” Zhengting apologizes, when he reappears back in his living room. “I must’ve slept through the sound.”

Justin just shrugs. “It’s alright, as long as you actually wake up eventually,” he says, with a smile. “Got your work done?”

“I think so,” Zhengting replies. “At least, I remember that I did.” He sighs, and shuffles into his kitchen. Justin trails behind him. “Have you eaten yet?” Zhengting asks.

“Two bagels,” Justin replies, “but that was, uh, an hour or so ago.”

“Then I’d better start cooking,” Zhengting murmurs, rolling his shoulders before he opens his freezer. He digs around for a moment, pulling out a packet of _bing_ and tossing it onto the counter behind him. Justin watches him from the other side of the counter, his palms sitting on the marble.

Zhengting leans down to open his fridge, and takes out his little box of red bean paste.

“There’s only two left in here,” Justin notes, lifting the open end of the packet sitting in front of him. “Unless you’ve got another one in your freezer?”

Zhengting turns around. “Oh,” he murmurs, scratching the back of his head. “Woops. I haven’t gone grocery shopping in like, three weeks.”

“Wanna go now?” Justin asks.

“What?”

“Clean yourself up first,” Justin adds. He walks around the counter, approaching Zhengting. “This--” he lifts his hand, staring at something on top of Zhengting’s head, “--needs to go.” Justin flicks a clump of hair that’s sticking up on the back of Zhengting’s head. Zhengting has no clue what he’s doing, but he swears he feels something on his head move.

“What?” he repeats.

Justin does something that he can’t see with his hand again. The boy folds down the piece of hair he just flicked, but it still rises back up. “Ah, just go look at yourself in the mirror, Zhengting,” Justin says, with a laugh.

And sure enough, when Zhengting looks at himself in his bathroom mirror, he looks like he’s got a sprout coming up from the top of his head.

* * *

It’s the time of the year where it’s just the beginning of winter -- the trees are already bare, the sky is already gray, and the ground is already hard and cold. Their breaths would make puffs of white in the air, but they’ve got their masks on.

Zhengting has fixed his hair, washed his face, and brushed his teeth, but Justin tells him he still looks a little bit exhausted. He shrugged, before saying, “Can’t be helped.”

Justin replied, “I would help you with your work if I could, but I probably don’t know anything useful.”

Zhengting walks next to him now, silently. Sometimes he’ll turn and look at Justin, who will return his stare, tilting his head with a question in his eyes. And then Zhengting will turn away, because he has no clue why he’s looking.

Or, maybe he does. They’re two lanky and long-legged individuals walking down the street together. It’s been some time Zhengting has even considered his own height, but when he stands directly next to Justin and looks at him suddenly he’s conscious about it. Sometimes Zhengting even looks Justin’s face up and down and wonders, if he got close enough just standing up, would they bump foreheads?

He’s never thought about this with Seunghyuk, but maybe that’s because Seunghyuk acts like and looks like his height, if that makes sense. He wears long trench coats, likes to call himself a man, and treats Euiwoong and Hyeongseop like his annoying little nephews.

Justin, well, he’s not so much like Seunghyuk. Zhengting thinks he’s pretty independent for a person his age, but there’s an underlying layer of his personality that makes it very obvious he’s a kid. Zhengting just can’t put his finger on it. He thinks it’s just primarily due to the fact that Justin’s rather socially introverted and follows around people more than he leads; but over the past several months, he has been slowly exposing more of the nuances of his personality as he grows more accustomed to this half-domestic, half-not really lifestyle he has with Zhengting. And, Zhengting can’t help but slowly become more and more intrigued.

He’s never really hung around someone like Justin for a long time, because he never thought he’d get along too well with someone like him, someone who’s very obviously young and juvenile but simultaneously very controlled and mature, and Zhengting doesn’t know what to think. Out of all the friends he has, Seunghyuk is arguably his closest, with Hyeongseop and Euiwoong following closely behind. Zhengting can all very obviously define them -- Seunghyuk is half a child, half not. Euiwoong is mostly an adult, with the exception that he gets carried away by things easily. Hyeongseop is just a straight up child.

The only things Zhengting can say for sure about Justin are the things he’s picked up from hanging around him.

He’s smart, kind, considerate. He’s observant, caring, sincere, independent. He’s cheeky, a little bit humorous, a little bit snarky -- which is probably something he picked up from Victoria, Zhengting thinks. The newest thing he’s noticed, which is probably the most blaring observation that points Justin to being a very obviously young soul, is that he’s a little bit pushy. Not the kind of pushy that’s blatantly apparent, because he isn’t someone who wants a lot of things.

But when he does want something, he doesn’t make it terribly obvious that he wants it, yet somehow he always ends up getting it.

It happens with Sicheng, Zhengting noticed. Just on his first day of teaching, when Justin had just completely shrugged off Sicheng’s question and dragged his friend out of the classroom without another word -- Sicheng didn't even protest. Xuanyi even noted that oddly enough, she sometimes saw Justin pulling Sicheng around instead of vice versa, which is what both she and Zhengting never expected.

It happens with Zhengting himself, although he’s only just come to realize recently -- probably because Justin is finally reaching that level of comfort around Zhengting. It happened when Justin purposefully wrenched Zhengting’s arm up -- although it was for the Zhengting’s own sake, Justin just simply _thought_ of doing something and he did it. Similar to how he wants something and goes to get it.

Victoria would also kick Zhengting’s ass if she knew that he gave in to her son’s request for red bean pancakes for breakfast, because although Zhengting is not as strict with the way he cooks his meals like Victoria is, there’s certain rules she has -- no food within two hours of sleeping, no cold things in the morning, no snacks before a meal, every meal past breakfast needs a vegetable and a grain, and no sweets in the morning.

And now Zhengting has been woken up early (or rather, earlier than he’d wanted to) by the kid, hasn’t even eaten, and is walking with him to the grocery store to buy more _bing_ for sweet red bean pancakes for breakfast (or... more like lunch now).

 _Whatever_ , Zhengting thinks. Maybe he just likes to take care of other people. Maybe he actually likes dealing with kids, even though he always avoided them beforehand. Maybe just being forced into close quarters with Justin made him a little soft. Who knows?

Zhengting sighs.

“Hmm?” Justin murmurs, looking at him.

“Nothing,” Zhengting replies.

* * *

He ends up buying way more crap than he planned.

Well, it’s partly because he’s in the grocery store, surrounded by aisles and aisles of food, all while on an empty stomach.

And the other part is that he and Justin are two young males. That eat a lot and like snacks.

“You do realize I’m paying for all of this, right?” Zhengting asks, when Justin returns to him with another box of wafers.

“I like wafers,” Justin replies. He blinks nonchalantly.

“Do you need three different flavors?”

“Yes, I do.” Justin walks away. Presumably to the same part of the aisle where he’d gotten the wafers. And the almond cookies, and the lemon biscuits, and the hawthorne candy.

Zhengting sighs. He stares in front of him. Maybe he’ll skip on this week’s refill of oyster crackers.

But then, his stomach growls at him. _No!_ it yells.

Zhengting loathes himself a little bit when he grabs a shiny metallic bag off of the shelf. But he tells himself he’ll feel better later because oyster crackers are great.

* * *

“What does this one smell like?”

Zhengting sneezes.

Justin giggles. “Sorry,” he says, retracting his wrist.

Zhengting just rubs his nose, sniffs, and sighs. “How did we even end up here again?” he asks.

“Didn't you need more hand cream?” Justin says.

“Ah, yes, my wrists are dry,” Zhengting replies, his voice very slightly pinched.

Justin grabs another fragrance tester off of the shelf and sprays it on a new spot on his wrist.

“No,” Zhengting immediately says, when he sees the boy turn to look at him. “I'm going to have sneezed my brains out by the time you've sprayed every single one.”

Justin looks dejected, but he purposely exaggerates his downturned lips, so Zhengting knows he's joking.

“But I don't have a good sense of smell,” Justin replies. “And don't these names sound nice? _Aruba Coconut and Sea Salt_.”

Zhengting snorts. “Do you know where Aruba is?” he asks.

Justin shakes his head. “No.”

“Okay, neither do I,” Zhengting replies.

Justin laughs at his response, before putting back the tester in his hand and exchanging it for another one.

Zhengting sighs, walking down the aisle and scanning his eyes up and down the shelves for hand cream.

He finds what he's looking for, puts a bottle in his cart, and Justin wanders over next to him.

“What's that?” Zhengting asks, staring at the thing in the boy's hand.

Justin holds it up. “A hair clip,” he replies, simply. It's a large, red poinsettia with golden rhinestones in the middle, affixed to a clip made of wood and covered in shiny varnish.

“...Why do you have that with you?” Zhengting asks, slowly.

“I thought it was pretty,” Justin replies. “Isn't it?” he lifts his hands up, pulling over his bangs on one side of his head and clipping the flower over his locks.

“I guess,” Zhengting murmurs, looking at the flower on Justin's head. The rich red of it stands out nicely against the light brown of his hair, and when the boy turns in a circle the petals slightly ruffle in the air. “Are you going to ask me to buy that for you?” Zhengting asks.

“No,” Justin replies, but then a small smile appears on his face a moment later. “But if you were going to offer, I don't mind.”

“If I buy that for you, you can't have three boxes of wafers,” Zhengting offers. He starts laughing when Justin actually looks like he's actually contemplating the trade.

But Justin shakes his head a moment later. “Maybe later,” he says, taking the clip off of his hair and walking away to return it to where he found it.

* * *

Zhengting stares critically at the giant wad of plastic bags in his hands, before opening the door underneath his sink and shoving them inside. He returns to standing in front of his counter, staring at the boxes and bags of snacks that sit on top of it, arms crossed and lips pursed.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asks, appearing at Zhengting’s side.

“This is a lot,” Zhengting replies.

“I guess.” Justin shrugs.

“We're going to have to finish this before your mother gets back, you know.”

“Okay, no problem.” Justin grabs a packet of dried bean curd off of the counter. He begins to walk away, presumably with the intent to flop onto Zhengting's couch, until Zhengting tells him to wait.

“It's not a good idea to eat snacks before a meal, you know,” Zhengting reminds.

Justin turns around and smiles. “It's okay,” he says, “I'll eat everything you give me.”

Zhengting sighs into his palm when the boy walks away without another word.

* * *

“Do you have any siblings?”

Justin leans forward, reaching for his cup sitting on the coffee table, and nearly tips over the bag of chips in his lap. Zhengting hurriedly grabs it -- he's not going to spend the next eternity cleaning up crumbs and oil on his carpet.

“No,” Zhengting replies.

“Do you ever wish you had one?”

“Huh.” Zhengting thinks for a moment. Did he? When he was young and still growing up, for the first part of his childhood he had Victoria. Even though they were over a decade apart in age, she made sure he never felt lonely.

And then, when she left for Shanghai, was Zhengting lonely? Yes, he was. He does remember thinking about what his life would be like if he weren't the only child in the household -- would he get along with his sibling, would they fight or be best friends? Would they be both? Would they be estranged from each other, or would they be very close? But he doesn't really recall _wishing_ he had a sibling. His parents already worked ungodly schedules to support one child, and Zhengting himself was too embroiled in his work to get himself out of their rural little town. He was lonely, but his dreams and the few friends he picked up on his journey were enough to keep him sane.

“No, not really,” he says. “Do you?”

“Well, yeah,” Justin replies, taking a sip from his cup. “I'm surprised you don't, Zhengting.”

“Why?” Zhengting asks.

“I used to always wish that Sicheng could be my brother,” Justin begins, quietly, “or that I would just have a brother or a sister. Because I get bored a lot. There's my mom, but she also works all the time.”

“And it's just you all alone in your home, eh?” Zhengting replies.

“Yeah.” Justin sighs, and he looks at Zhengting. For the first time ever since meeting him, Zhengting sees a little bit of desolation, maybe even disappointment in his expression. Even though his home situation may be unideal to most growing kids and he's rather introverted, Zhengting has always seen him deal with the unpleasantness of being alone by simply doing his own thing and smiling and saying that he understands.

“I even used to wish that my mom and dad hadn't separated,” Justin adds.

“Do you miss your dad?” Zhengting asks.

“Sometimes. I don't remember him a lot, since my parents were divorced when I was pretty young.”

“Doesn't Victoria let you visit him?”

“Well, sometimes, but whenever she offers to let me go I tell her I just want to stay here.”

Zhengting raises an eyebrow. Why would Justin make that decision? If anything, Zhengting would expect him to do anything he can to alleviate some of his isolation.

Justin, noticing the question on the tip of Zhengting's tongue, answers it before he can ask.

“I know she doesn't like him, and she's worried that I might end up liking him more than I like her. My parents divorced a long time ago, so I don't even remember him that clearly. I just stay with her so she doesn't have to worry.”

“I'm…sorry,” Zhengting says, softly. He has no clue what commentary he can provide, but Justin just smiles gently at him. He does feel, however, that this kid makes him even more and more fascinated as the time goes by. Even if Justin is isolated from his mother often, instead of hating her for his undesirable home predicament, he’s managed to look past that and empathize with her decisions -- something which is generally unseen in a relationship between a teenager and their parents; after all, the teenage years are supposedly the most troublesome. But, Justin has never been anything close to “troublesome”.

Zhengting himself feels more like a child than Justin at that moment, yet the way Justin’s lips curve up into a smile at him reminds Zhengting that the boy is still young. His smile isn’t tired or exhausted -- nothing that would indicate he’s spent his years working away and riding the rollercoaster that is life. There’s innocence, something bright about the way his face lights up when he looks at Zhengting, even though the topic at hand is something that’s a little saddening for him.

“It’s okay,” Justin replies. “Actually, now that I think about it,” he adds, after a moment's pause, still with a small smile on his face, “I can kind of see why you didn't think like me. About wanting a sibling and all.”

“Really?” Zhengting replies, both of his eyebrows now raised. “What do you mean by that?”

“Maybe you weren’t as lonely as I was. My mom told me your parents worked a lot like hers, but they were still great parents, much better than hers,” Justin begins. “Even though your mom badgers you about stuff, it's really funny.” He starts giggling, his laughter soft and subtle. “I feel sorry you have to put up with it, but at least that means she's really concerned about your future.”

“...I suppose so,” Zhengting replies, slowly. He has an uncomfortable smile on his face, because whenever he even _thinks_ about his mother's nagging he can already feel himself becoming exasperated.

“And your dad, I really like your dad,” Justin adds with a smile. “I like the stories he tells.”

“Is that why you were listening to us that night?” Zhengting asks.

Justin nods. “Yeah, he's a great storyteller. His laugh is loud, and it startled me at first, but he reminds me of the kind of dad everyone in movies wants.” He pauses, looking at his hands resting on his shins, before continuing. “And you also scared me when you waved at me, Zhengting.”

Zhengting laughs now, a silly smile on his face. “What was I supposed to do? I think I was also scared too, Justin, because I didn't want to frighten you. Or else your mom would probably go at me.”

Justin sighs. “Sorry if I seemed that way, I just really didn't know what to do or say either, I felt really awkward around you and your dad.”

“Do you still do?” Zhengting asks.

Justin immediately shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “I like your dad, and I like you too. You tell stories like him, and I enjoy listening to you too. You don't laugh as loud as he does, but your laugh is pretty cheery, like his as well.”

“I thought you told me I was like Sicheng,” Zhengting comments.

“You're both,” Justin affirms, nodding once. “You're funny and kinda grumpy sometimes like Sicheng, but you talk a lot and are really easygoing like your dad.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. “Oh, well, thank you, I'm flattered.”

Justin brings his hand up, his thumb running back and forth across the bottom his lip, as if he were thinking. He looks up. “You know, I told you this before, but I at first kinda didn't care about you coming here and thought I'd just ignore unless there was something important.”

“Now I'm offended,” Zhengting says. But the grin on his face tells otherwise.

Justin laughs at his statement. “But you know, now I'm glad you're here.”

“Really?”

The boy nods. “You're not as strict as my mom, you buy me things I like to eat instead of things I have to eat--”

“Is this just about food?” Zhengting asks, teasingly.

Justin just simply smiles. “Well, that's a part of it, since my mom is pretty strict on the amount of junk I get to eat. But other than that, do you know what the worst part about being kinda lonely is?”

Zhengting shakes his head.

“You don't have anyone to tell how lonely you are. But now, now I have someone.”


	5. 啜

**啜** :  _Perhaps a single taste is only enough to send most spiraling._

* * *

It's finally winter break, and Seunghyuk invited Zhengting to come back to Seoul for the holidays. Zhengting would, but there's Justin. He'd take the boy with him, but it's on such short notice and he doesn't know if Victoria would allow that.

Justin even wants to go too when Zhengting mentions the idea. His face lights up, and he says he'd love to see Seunghyuk in real life to compare their heights. He looks disappointed when Zhengting tells him it's probably not going to happen, but he happily says, “Okay!” when Zhengting promises he'll take him over the summer if Victoria allows it.

The beginning of winter break is a little bit weird for them. Sicheng comes over to Victoria's apartment earlier than expected one day, and Zhengting is running around, trying to remember where he left his phone charger. He barely has even a moment's notice after he hears Sicheng's voice and Justin saying, “Oh crap” to duck behind the part of the kitchen counter that juts out into the living room.

“Never come early again,” Justin says, “please.”

“Why?” Sicheng asks. “Man, are you that unhappy to see your best friend?” And then he grins stupidly, wiggling his fingers in front of Justin's face. “Oooh, I know, were you doing something secret before I got here? What're you hiding?”

 _A person,_ Zhengting thinks, with a laugh in his head.

“Nothing,” Justin replies, with a flat expression on his face, “besides the desire to kick you right now.”

Zhengting smiles. Oh, he's always entertained whenever those two interact. He ends up leaving when Sicheng goes to the bathroom. “Sorry,” he murmurs, awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“Not your fault,” Justin replies, “but can you please go now? Sicheng could come back out any second.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Zhengting says, as he walks out of the apartment.

When Sicheng reappears, he narrows his eyes at Justin. “I smell something extremely fishy,” he notes. “I swear I heard the door opening and closing.”

“Yeah, one of those guys that promotes the local church knocked on the door,” Justin replies, nonchalantly shrugging.

Sicheng crosses his arms. “I want to say you're lying.”

“I'm not.”

“Why can I never tell whether you're lying or not?”

“Because I never lie to you.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Okay, sure,” he replies, but Justin's expression is still very serious. Like he's telling the truth.

Sicheng sticks out his tongue and walks away.

* * *

Later that week, Xuanyi texts him and asks him if he wants to go shopping. When Zhengting replies with _Why?,_ she says he's the only male friend around her age she has and she needs help choosing gifts for her male family members.

As Zhengting is putting on his coat, Justin tells him to have fun. “You aren't really dating my biology teacher, right?” he asks.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “No, why does everyone think that?”

“Because she's pretty and you two always hang around each other?” And then Justin adds, quietly, “I wouldn't be surprised if what my mom said ends up happening.”

Zhengting sighs into his hand.

Justin just walks up to him, giggling, and says, “I'm sorry, I'm joking. Sort of. Mostly. Just have fun, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Zhengting replies.

Xuanyi buys too much stuff, Zhengting thinks. If most of it weren't things for herself, he'd wonder why in the world she would ask for his help buying gifts. Only two or so hours in and she already has three shopping bags on each arm. The sales ladies in the shop they've just entered looked at Zhengting and cooed, “Aw, you're so nice buying this much for your girlfriend!”, as they did in every other store he and Xuanyi have visited. At first, he said, “Uh, she's kind of like my boss,” but that got him extremely odd looks. And then, he switched to saying, “She's just my friend,” but of course no middle-aged lady with a giant smile who calls people “dear” believes that bull. At this point, Zhengting's just settled for weakly protesting, “She's not my girlfriend.”

Xuanyi will just giggle at his expense, before flouncing off to another store with Zhengting trailing feebly behind her.

“I don't like people anymore,” he says, after receiving the third dirty look from a stranger because Xuanyi now has five bags on each arm and Zhengting is not carrying anything.

Xuanyi laughs at his statement. “If it makes you feel better, you're free to carry some of these,” she says, holding out an arm. Zhengting sighs, taking the bags from her. If it'll prevent some of the attention he gets from random people, he supposes some arm work won't hurt.

“I'm surprised you haven't bought anything yet,” Xuanyi notes, “don't you need to buy gifts too?”

Zhengting laughs. Who in his life does he _really_ need to buy something for? The last time he bought something for his parents, his mother told him to stop wasting money he could put towards his tuition. He can't afford anything Victoria would find useful. Xuanyi pointed out something she wanted, and then promptly bought it herself. And -- oh, Zhengting realizes. There's one more person.

“You’re right,” he replies after a moment, “I do have one person I need to buy something for.”

“Who?” Xuanyi asks.

Zhengting is about to reply, “Justin,” but then he shuts his mouth. _Thank goodness,_ he thinks, or else what would Xuanyi have thought?

“Uh, my friend,” Zhengting replies, after a second.

“Oh, cool,” Xuanyi hums. “He's around our age?”

“A little bit younger,” Zhengting says.

Xuanyi smiles. “Should be easy, then. Do you need any help?”

Zhengting pauses, thinking. He looks around them, at all the of the stores in their surrounding and then briefly tilting his head up to look at the second floor of the mall. Would there be any stores that might have something Justin would like?

He's about to give up trying to come up with ideas when he remembers -- oh, the kid likes to eat sweets.

“There is a specialty chocolate store here, isn't there?” he asks.

Xuanyi nods. “Yup!”

“Guess we can stop by there later,” Zhengting says.

He briefly reconsiders his decision when he approaches the shop with Xuanyi, because Victoria. But then he figures, if the boy doesn't finish whatever Zhengting buys him before Victoria comes back home (which is pretty unlikely), he'll just use the excuse that it's Christmas and that it'll be okay.

He ends up picking up two different boxes and a baggie of lucky strawberry candy. Xuanyi comments that whomever he's buying this for must have a real big sweet tooth, and Zhengting just laughed because it's kind of true.

Ms. Meng and her boyfriend see them eating together at a coffee shop when they stop for a break.

“Oh, you're finally dating!” she exclaims. “Took you long enough, Xuanyi.”

Zhengting promptly chokes.

“Did I say something wrong?” Ms. Meng asks, oblivious. “You know, maybe we should do a double date sometime!”

Zhengting wants to cry.

“Meiqi…” Xuanyi begins, with a worried smile on her face. “We're not dating, I asked him to help me pick out presents for my family.”

Ms. Meng just shrugs. “Okay, whatever you say!” she replies, laughing. “I've been waiting for you to find a guy ever since we met in college.”

Xuanyi looks like she wants to bang her head on the table at that moment. “Please don't mention that,” she says.

Ms. Meng rolls her eyes. “But it's true!”

Xuanyi sighs. “Can you please leave?”

Ms. Meng blows air, faking being offended for a moment. “Rude,” she comments, but then laughs the second after. “Alright, I'll see you sometime soon. Have fun on your date!”

Xuanyi and Zhengting wave while she walks away, toting her boyfriend with her.

“She sounds like my mother,” Zhengting says.

Xuanyi laughs at his statement. “She kinda acts like my mother,” she replies. “It's annoying, but sometimes I appreciate it.”

Zhengting sighs. At this point, he's just wanting less and less to get into a relationship.

When he and Xuanyi are leaving the mall, Zhengting stops in his tracks as they pass by a store a little ways before the entrance.

“Zhengting, what're you looking at?” Xuanyi asks, following his gaze.

He’s stopped right outside a jewelry shop, one with sparkling rhinestones and different colored rocks strung on gold and silver chains on many of the displays. But what caught his eye wasn't the jewelry so much, rather it was something sitting on top of one of the spinning racks with necklaces on them. Completely out of place.

Zhengting walks into the store, Xuanyi trailing behind him. He approaches the rack, and picks up the item that caught his eye.

It's a metal hair clip, one with a rich red poinsettia on it. The rhinestones it has are golden, similar to the one Justin picked up when he and Zhengting were grocery shopping. Except, this time they're scattered about on the flower’s petals, but Zhengting just thinks that makes it look more beautiful.

“I'm going to buy this,” he tells Xuanyi.

Xuanyi smiles at him. “It's pretty,” she replies, “you have a good eye. Whoever it's for, she's going to like it.”

Zhengting inwardly laughs. _Not so much a “she"_ , he thinks, _but they will like it._

* * *

Zhengting still _does_ need to buy something for Victoria and Xuanyi -- the former because she’ll likely scold him if he doesn’t, the latter because they’re friends and Zhengting would feel guilty if he didn't do something.

The next day, he takes Justin with him to buy gifts.

For just going shopping, and coupled with the fact that he’s a kid, Justin dresses relatively well. His jeans are tailored, his shirt has a collar and fits snugly and hangs loosely in all the right places, and the coat he chooses is a black trench. Zhengting chalks it up to Victoria buying him nice clothes, but he can’t help but wonder if the boy himself has any say in his wardrobe. He feels a little underdressed standing next to Justin, with his worn sneakers and old track jacket, but he just tells himself to stop feeling inferior because the purpose of going out is not for himself.

“What does your mother like?” Zhengting asks.

“Uh,” Justin begins, “how am I supposed to know?” He shrugs.

“If you don’t know, then who knows?” Zhengting replies, huffing. “She’s your _mother_.”

“And aren’t you like, one of her closest friends?”

Zhengting rolls his eyes at his response.

“You could always buy her more makeup,” Justin suggests, glancing over at the brightly lit beauty counters and displays of the department store they’re currently in. “Or, jewelry?”

Zhengting just sighs. “Do I look like I can afford Tom Ford and diamonds?”

“Then why are we here?” Justin replies, pulling a blouse off of the rack next to him and holding up the price tag. “This shirt alone is _five hundred and seventy-nine renminbi_ , Zhengting.”

“I thought that if I looked around I might get ideas,” Zhengting murmurs, shrugging. “Although, now that I think about it, the only thing that’s happening is me feeling more and more inferior with each price tag I look at.”

Justin laughs at his response and puts back the blouse. “Then let’s go somewhere else,” he says. “There’s plenty of other places, and you’ll find something eventually.”

In the next clothing store, Zhengting is flipping through hangers on a rack, looking at things that might suit Victoria’s taste (which happens to be very selective, and Zhengting sort of feels like he’s walking on hot stones). Justin had disappeared from his side a minute or so ago, only to return with a shirt draped over his arm.

“How would this look?” he asks, holding it up against his chest. It’s white, with a collar and short, wide sleeves. It looks like there’s slits on either side of the garment, and the front tail of the shirt is shorter than the back.

“...On you, right?” Zhengting replies, slowly.

Justin smiles. “Well, yeah, of course,” he replies.

“Well, I suppose it looks nice,” Zhengting says, glancing up and down at the shirt.

“Can I go try it on?” Justin asks.

Zhengting shrugs. “Sure, but I thought we were here shopping for--”

“Are you two gentleman doing okay?”

Both Justin and Zhengting glance over.

“Shopping for special ladies in your lives?” the sales associate asks, with a sweet voice and smile.

“Uh, yes,” Zhengting replies. He adds, “My friend,” at the same time Justin says, “My mom”.

The two glance at each other for a second, confused. Zhengting raises an eyebrow and Justin shrugs.

“His mom,” Zhengting quickly corrects, at the same time Justin says, “His friend”.

The sales associate looks just as startled as the two males standing in front of her for a second, but that look is quickly replaced by the cheerful grin she had beforehand. Zhengting thinks that in the future he should just shut his mouth.

“Well, okay, if you guys need any help, just free to ask me!” the sales associate says. She doesn't look uncomfortable, but Zhengting can just feel that she is.

“Okay, thank you,” Zhengting replies, with an awkward laugh.

When the lady walks away, he looks at Justin. “What in the world was that?” he asks, not necessarily with any hostility, just genuine surprise and a lot more embarrassment.

“I don’t even know,” Justin replies, shrugging. “But that was weird.”

Zhengting just sighs, as Justin walks away, murmuring, “I’ll go try this on now.”

When the boy returns and asks Zhengting how he looks, Zhengting has a hard time saying anything for a second or two.

He figures that it isn’t solely Victoria who influences Justin’s wardrobe. The shirt is very nice, a crisp white with a clean cut and design. The collar is set just a little bit below the base of his neck, and combined with the looser, flowier style of the garment, it somehow makes Justin look longer. Not necessarily taller, but longer. More lithe, more graceful, and far more elegant.

“You look great,” Zhengting says, after a moment. “The shirt really fits you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Justin replies, looking down at his torso. He laughs, spinning around a couple of times. The tail of the shirt flies out behind him as he moves.

“Do you choose your own clothing?” Zhengting asks.

Justin nods. “Mostly,” he says. “When my mom takes me shopping, I’ll just pick out some stuff and whatever she thinks looks good too, she’ll buy.”

“You have really good fashion sense,” Zhengting replies, looking Justin up and down. “I’m jealous,” he adds, with a small laugh.

Justin smiles at him, and laughs too. “Thanks,” he says. “Maybe one day I’ll help you pick out a whole new wardrobe.”

“Are you implying that my clothing is ugly?” Zhengting asks, jokingly.

Justin just shakes his head. “Not really,” he replies, “you just need some coordination.”

“I suppose.” Now Zhengting is looking down at his own clothing. A pair of worn sneakers, plain jeans, and an old track jacket.

“Another day, though,” Justin hums, “we should probably focus on finding my mom and Ms. Wu something.”

“Yeah,” Zhengting murmurs. Just as Justin turns and walks away, Zhengting asks, “Hey, how much does that shirt cost?”

Justin lifts up his arm, the tag dangling from the armpit seam. He grabs it and looks at it. “One hundred and eighty-nine _renminbi_ ,” he says, after a second.

“Huh,” Zhengting replies. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll probably ask my mom to buy it for me later,” Justin notes, shrugging as he turns and walks away.

Zhengting stares at the boy’s back, his movements still paused. For a moment, he is envious of the extremely carefree way that Justin uttered that sentence. He sighs after a second, shakes his head, and continues flipping through the racks.

Zhengting ends up buying Victoria a silk scarf, one with marbled fuschia and black in the middle and a lilac border. He saw the scarf tied around a mannequin's neck in a ruffled, floppy bow that he instantly thought would look beautiful on Victoria. Justin thought his choice was in good taste too, which left Zhengting a little bit proud of his decision.

It is, however, difficult for him to find something for Xuanyi. It's one thing when the person you're buying a gift for is selective, and an entire other thing when that person has… basically almost everything you can think of.

His motivation is slowly draining and he  actually gets distracted more than he wants to admit by Justin bringing up garments to him, holding them up against himself or Zhengting, and asking if he likes it. Justin even manages to convince him to try on a full outfit he picked out, and when Zhengting awkwardly steps out of the fitting room Justin starts giggling.

“Seriously, do I look that bad?” Zhengting asks, and sighs.

“No, no,” Justin replies, shaking his head. “Sorry, I think you look great. It was just unexpected.”

Zhengting turns and looks at himself in the mirror.

He's wearing a black and white striped collared shirt where one half of the stripes are vertical and the other half are horizontal -- the collar and sleeves are both loose on him, the former exposing his neck and part of his collarbones, the latter reaching almost to his fingertips. Justin had also picked out a pair of jeans with two white stripes running vertically along the outer seam -- they actually fit Zhengting's legs well for once.

Zhengting feels a little bit like a walking optical illusion. But, he can't deny the fact that he _actually_ looks stylish.

“...I look nice,” he says, quietly.

“Yes, you do,” Justin replies.

“Too bad I can't afford this,” Zhengting laughs, glancing at the price tag on the sleeve of the shirt. The number _245_ glares up at him. He inwardly winces.

Justin shrugs, smiling. “Maybe one day when you're a famous professor you can.”

“Yeah, one day,” Zhengting replies, softly, still staring at his reflection. He can't take his eyes away. “Can you take a picture of me?” he asks, after a few moments of silence.

“Sure.”

Zhengting hands Justin his phone.

“Just look natural,” Justin says, as he's holding up the phone.

Zhengting has no clue what “natural” means. He just stands there, one knee bent and a halfway smile on his lips.

When Justin shows him the picture, he doesn't look too bad. Sure, he looks a little awkward, but it doesn't make him uncomfortable to look at.

He posts the photo on his Weibo and Kakao story. It's only a minute later when his phone pings with a new comment.

 _Hyeongseop:_ Wow, you look hot. If I didn't only have eyes for Woong, you'd be my next target.

→ _Zhengting:_ Seop, please tell me you're drunk. You're creeping me out.

→ _Hyeongseop:_ No, I'm not, you actually do look hot. Take my compliment.

→ _Euiwoong:_ You're so gross, hyung.

→ _Hyeongseop:_ Too bad, you love me.

→ _Euiwoong:_ Even if I love you, you're still gross. Anyway, you do look nice, Jung Jung. Much better than Hyeongseop-hyung does on a daily basis.

Zhengting sighs, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. He puts his phone in his pocket and drapes the garments over his arm, before walking out of the fitting room with Justin trailing behind him.

“My friends think that I looked good,” Zhengting says, with a smile.

Justin just smiles back, a small “hehe” tumbling out of his mouth. “I'm glad,” he replies.

The stripes give Zhengting the idea to buy Xuanyi a set of bangles, one of the larger ones in the set made of two loops of silver wire with alternating black and white crystals suspended in the middle. Although she does wear bracelets, Zhengting has never seen her wear anything like the bangles he's picked out.

He's quite content with his purchases, so he buys he and Justin mall food in the form of cups of dragonfruit jelly.

“Been so long since I had this,” Justin murmurs, through a mouthful. “Thanks, Zhengting.” He swallows and smiles.

Zhengting laughs. “You're welcome,” he says.

As they're walking out of the mall, Justin sighs. “That was fun,” he murmurs, “shopping with you is nice. Certainly better than going to the mall with Sicheng, all he wants to do is either play games in the arcade or demo all the games in the video game shops.”

“Ah, well, I'm glad you think so,” Zhengting replies, with a soft laugh. “I had fun too.”

Justin grins at him. His lips are stained pink from the jelly, and Zhengting can't help but stare.

* * *

The second week of winter break, Zhengting takes Justin ice skating.

Somehow, Justin manages to not really fall, which is some kind of sorcery, Zhengting thinks.

“Weeee!” he cries, as he flails around in a circle, his feet not quite skating but not quite running on the ice. His blades make excessive scraping sounds, and Zhengting constantly feels like he’s kept on the edge of a heart attack.

“How the hell has he not injured himself or anyone else yet?” Hyeongseop asks, squinting at the boy through Zhengting’s phone screen.

“I would like to know that too,” Zhengting replies, critically, as he looks over the top of his phone at Justin, who’s currently attempting to go in spirals -- _backwards_ , Zhengting realizes. His panic levels have just upped themselves sevenfold and his hands shake a little bit.

He begins skating towards the middle because it’s best he’s nearer Justin than all the way at the wall. The toepick of his skate gets momentarily stuck in the ice, and he nearly trips.

“Don’t drop me,” Hyeongseop warns, and Zhengting laughs sarcastically.

“If I drop my phone, I’m the one that’s going to be sorry, not you,” he replies.

“Where are your skills? Didn’t Yuna teach you how to like, jump or something?” Hyeongseop asks.

Zhengting just rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, but _barely._ And remember, last time I was on the ice was the winter I still lived with you guys.”

Hyeongseop makes some kind of noise that sounds like _nyeeeeeiii_ , and Zhengting can’t do anything besides laugh at his friend.

“How’s Woong and Seunghyuk?” he asks, glancing between the phone screen and Justin.

Hyeongseop’s face instantly lights up, and Zhengting prepares himself to hear something gross and sappy. He regrets even asking.

“They’re both great! Woong is so cute, I bought him a heated blanket and he’s currently napping with it-- here, let me show you--” Hyeongseop begins.

“No, you don’t really--” Zhengting starts to protest, but he’s too late because he can hear Hyeongseop’s socked feet running down the hallway. And before he knows it, his screen is filled with an image of Euiwoong sleeping.

But the next second after that, Euiwoong cracks open an eye. Both of his eyes fly open when he realizes what Hyeongseop is doing.

“What the hell, hyung?!” he exclaims. “Why the hell are you watching me sleep?!” Euiwoong sits up and reaches out his arm. Suddenly the phone screen starts changing scenes so rapidly Zhengting can’t tell what’s happening.

“You didn’t have to shove me so hard!” Hyeongseop protests, a second later, the camera finally stabilized to display part of Euiwoong’s bed.

“You were watching me _sleep_ , hyung. I think I have a right,” Euiwoong retorts.

“Hyeongseop, just leave Euiwoong alone,” Zhengting suggests, with a laugh. “I don’t need to see what he looks like sleeping, I’ve seen his sleeping face plenty of times before.”

“ _Oh my god_ \--” Euiwoong growls, “--you two are both so _creepy_. I swear, I’m the only sane one in this whole entire group.” Zhengting can only imagine what his friend’s face looks like right now, his nose scrunched up in irritation and his teeth bared in annoyance. Zhengting bends forward a little at the fits of laughter that assault him from the image.

Justin notices his laughter and skates over, looking curiously over the his shoulder at his phone screen. “What’s happening?” he asks.

“Hyeongseop tried to show me what Euiwoong looks like while he’s sleeping,” Zhengting replies.

“Oh, that’s creepy,” Justin comments, completely unconcerned.

“He agrees!” Euiwoong exclaims. “Wait, that is Justin, right?”

“Yeah,” Zhengting replies, at the same time Hyeongseop asks, “Wait, what?”

“Justin agrees with me that you’re being creepy,” Euiwoong says. “Now, can you please get out of my room?”

“Oh, fine,” Hyeongseop huffs, before walking away. He holds the phone down so that his socked feet appear at the edge of the screen.

“I feel sorry for Euiwoong,” Justin comments. Zhengting chuckles at his statement, because whenever Justin tries to say Euiwoong’s name it’s a bit funny. He pronounces it a little bit like _yv hong_. Magnificent fish. Both an insult and a compliment depending on how one takes it.

“Yeah, I do too,” Zhengting agrees.

“Come on,” Justin says, and he tugs on the sleeve of Zhengting’s jacket, “you can’t stay still the whole time.” His hand moves down, wrapping around Zhengting’s wrist. “I’m going to pull you now,” he says, with a smile.

And then Zhengting is hardly given a second’s notice before Justin starts forth right away with a speed that feels faster than Zhengting can sprint.

Zhengting yelps in surprise, nearly catapulting forward. Hyeongseop’s laughter is loud from his phone. “I didn’t know your voice went up that high,” he says, through breaths. Zhengting can just barely utter, “Shut up.”

Much to his surprise, Justin never ends up falling while he’s on the ice -- he has some weird sense of balance. But due to his slightly clumsy nature, he does trip, just while on the mats off ice.

He lets out a noise of surprise, a loud _clang_ ringing through the air as one of his blades hits the metal of the bench he’s near, but he manages to catch himself on the bench before he touches the ground.

“Holy crap crap crap,” he mutters, under his breath, holding onto his knee and balancing on one foot.

Zhengting, panicked and several paces behind, quickens his step. “What happened?” he asks, his eyes wide.

Justin gives him a very grimaced look, his lips pursed and nose scrunched. “I drove my knee into the corner of bench,” he replies. But then, the second after, he starts laughing and scoots himself onto the metal.

“...What’s so funny?” Zhengting asks, quizzically. “And are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Justin replies, through his laughter, “it just hurts a bit. You just looked like you were about to have a heart attack for a second.”

“...I’ve been about to have a heart attack for the last two hours,” Zhengting replies, with a flat expression on his face. “You don’t know how relieved I was that you didn’t end up injuring yourself on the ice, only for you to injure yourself while _off_ the ice.”

“Were you really that worried?” Justin asks, still laughing.

Zhengting just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, of course, it’s my responsibility that you’re safe.”

The boy’s expression quiets for a moment at Zhengting’s words. “Oh,” he murmurs, “of course. Sorry if I worried you.”

Zhengting sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” he replies, “as long as you’re fine.”

“Yeah, probably just bruised,” Justin hums.

Bruised he is. The new creature on his knee is an ugly dark purple, the edges of it tinged a mustard yellow-green color. Zhengting stares at it in fascination as Justin is sitting on his counter, one leg of his sweatpants rolled up.

“Well, the skin didn’t break,” Zhengting says, after a moment.

Justin lifts up one of his hands and presses his thumb into the bruise.

“Why are you--” Zhengting begins.

“It actually doesn’t hurt,” Justin interrupts. “I thought it would, but it doesn’t.”

“It probably will in a day or two,” Zhengting replies. “Just don’t bump that knee into anything else for the time being.”

“Alright,” Justin says. Zhengting steps aside, letting the boy slide off the counter and walk past him. While Justin rounds the corner of the counter, he just barely manages to avoid ramming the left side of his body into the wood -- the side of his body with the bruised knee.

“Justin--” Zhengting begins, nearly jumping in surprise.

“What?” Justin turns around to look at him.

“Nevermind,” Zhengting replies. He sighs into both of his palms. Maybe Victoria was right, maybe he really is getting old and feeble at the grand age of twenty-two.

* * *

Chengcheng calls him one evening and basically tells him he _has_ to go to a potluck that weekend that his family is hosting for the holidays.

“Uh,” Zhengting begins, glancing at the other end of the couch.

Justin looks up from his phone. “What?”

“Come _on_ , Zhengting. I invited Yixuan and our other lab buddies’ families too. It wouldn’t be right without you,” Chengcheng says, after hearing his friend’s hesitation. “And also, you know how good Yixuan’s mom’s _xian bing_ is.”

“Well…” Zhengting begins, slowly. He’s still staring at Justin, and the latter raises an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to bring other people?”

“Oh, are your parents visiting you?”

“No.”

“What, did you finally get a girlfriend?”

“Chengcheng--” Zhengting begins, exasperated, “--he’s my friend’s son that I have to watch over break.”

Both of Justin’s eyebrows are now raised. The look on his face says, _Are you going to say something bad about me?_

“How old is he?” Chengcheng asks.

“Sixteen,” Zhengting replies.

“Okay, well, you’re free to bring him. We’re gonna have some _baijiu_ and wine and whatnot, though, so you be aware if his parents doesn’t let him drink alcohol,” Chengcheng notes.

“Well, alright then,” Zhengting says, and he tells Chengcheng he’ll see him on Saturday. “Does your mom let you drink alcohol?” he asks Justin, after hanging up the phone.

Justin laughs. “Why are you asking me that all of a sudden? And not really, unless it’s a special occasion, then she lets me drink her wine.”

Zhengting tells him they’re going to a potluck on Saturday.

“We _what_ ?” Justin asks. “ _No_ ,” he adds, before Zhengting can say anything.

“Would you rather I just leave you at home, all alone in the dark?” Zhengting replies, crossing his arms.

“Yes. Yes, please do that.”

A grin slowly spreads on Zhengting’s face. “Too bad,” he says, with a laugh, “you’re coming with me.”

“ _Why_?” Justin protests, retracting his arms and legs back towards his body. A look of uneasiness settles on his face.

“I’m not just going to leave you at home,” Zhengting begins. “It’s break, Justin. The holidays. You shouldn’t just stay home all the time--” he looks around his living room for a moment, “--really, what is there to do? And not to mention you’re just stuck with me the whole time.” He laughs, before adding, “I think it’s good that we go out and do something with other people.”

Justin stares critically at him for a couple of seconds, before slowly opening his mouth. His voice is quiet, a little bit soft. “But I like staying home with you.”

Zhengting freezes for a moment. For some reason, there’s a little fluttering in his chest at hearing the boy’s words, and the next breath he takes is short.

“I told you before. I like spending time with you. I don’t want to go out and meet other people.”

“...Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, “right. Thanks… I suppose.”

“It’s the truth,” Justin replies, simply, looking up at Zhengting with his eyes slightly wider than usual. He stares, unblinking, and for some reason Zhengting all of a sudden feels nervous.

“...I already told Chengcheng I’d be there,” Zhengting replies, after a moment or two. “Just come with me. Please?” And then when Justin still doesn’t respond, he adds, “If it makes you feel better, you can stay with me the whole time. And I won’t make you speak to anyone you don’t want to.”

“Okay,” Justin murmurs, his posture relaxing slightly.

Zhengting sighs. “Sorry I kinda pulled a fast one on you,” he apologizes.

“It's alright,” Justin replies. “What will you make?”

“...Right,” Zhengting mutters. He has no clue.

* * *

Justin looks like he wants to hide behind Zhengting when the latter knocks on Chengcheng's door, but sadly his height doesn't really allow for it.

Chengcheng is completely caught off guard when he sees Justin, but Zhengting asks him, “What, were you expecting him to be a meter and a half?”

The parents coo at Justin. They marvel at his height and compliment him on his youthful and pretty face. They praise him on how nice he's dressed. They say they wished their own sons were more like him.

Justin will shyly say thank you, but he never utters more than that. Zhengting sees how absolutely uneasy he looks -- not necessarily nervous, just uneasy. Two of Zhengting's lab buddies have younger siblings that’re there as well, but Justin pays them no heed, and instead sticks closely to Zhengting. Zhengting even goes as far as to purposely pile more of his own food into Justin's bowl with the hope that it'll make the boy feel more comfortable.

He talks with his friends while sitting on the couch, Justin pressed closely to his side. He wonders if the boy is like this with Victoria whenever she takes him to parties.

The only time Justin relaxes is when three of Zhengting's friends are halfway to being drunk and decide to start doing karaoke.

“ _I hope he loves you more than I do, only then will I bring myself to leaaave!_ ”

Zhengting scrunches his face at Chengcheng’s unnecessarily drawled note. Justin giggles beside him. “You're not going to sing, are you?” he asks, and Zhengting shakes his head.

“Not my thing,” he replies.

Chengcheng continues to sing terribly, and Zhengting pulls out his phone to record him. He posts snippets on his Weibo, tagging his friend in each of them. Justin looks over and watches, jokingly telling Zhengting he's evil.

Zhengting just balances his glass of wine between his index and middle fingers, swirling the liquid before gulping the rest of it down with a smile.

“My mom looks more elegant when she does that,” Justin comments. He smiles a second after, laughing softly when he doesn't get anything but a deadpanned expression in response.

Huh, Zhengting thinks. Justin's face is just a little bit pink. He'd wandered over to the kitchen island a while ago and poured himself something that Zhengting thought was soda, but might as well be _baijiu_ too. Zhengting almost wants to pinch the boy's face with the way the color on his cheeks sticks out when he smiles.

“What's in your glass?” Zhengting asks.

“I mixed the Sprite and the _baijiu_ ,” Justin replies.

Well, Zhengting guessed right.

“Would've thought you'd go for wine,” he replies, and then jokingly adds, “didn't think you would prefer the stronger alcohol.”

“Didn't think you'd go for the wine,” Justin says, with an equal smile. “Thought you'd prefer some classic Chinese alcohol.”

“I can't get stupidly drunk, I still need to drive,” Zhengting replies, laughing.

“Right,” the boy murmurs. He holds his glass in between his first two fingers and swirls the liquid inside, staring at Zhengting and winking. When the latter laughs at his little act, Justin says, with a cheeky grin, “Learn from a pro.”

They don't end up leaving until it's nearing one in the morning.

“ _Unforgettable night, unforgettable night, whether you’re at--_ ” Chengcheng begins to sing, as Zhengting is shrugging on his coat.

“ _Please_ do not sing that song,” Zhengting says. “Your voice isn’t high enough to hit that key, either.”

Chengcheng doesn’t look offended at all, because the alcohol has already numbed his ability to feel anything but giddy a long time ago. He just walks away, with a silly grin, and continues to serenade the night.

“Happy holidays, everyone!” Zhengting calls behind him, as he and Justin are putting on their shoes at the door, “I’ll see you all after break!”

He gets a round of shouts after him. When he and Justin step outside into the night air, the latter comments, “That was interesting.”

“Really?” Zhengting replies.

The boy breaks out in a giant yawn, and Zhengting laughs. “We’ll be home soon, then you can sleep.”

Justin is silent the entire ride home, until Zhengting closes his apartment door behind him. The boy just walks in, not even taking off his shoes, and flops onto the couch.

“You’re not going to sleep there, are you?” Zhengting asks.

“Why not?” Justin replies, with a laugh. He grabs a pillow and covers his face.

“Whatever.” Zhengting walks up to the couch, a smile on his lips. “Just don’t put your sneakers on my couch and you’ll be okay,” he says, pointedly.

Justin quickly lifts his feet off of the cushions and shrugs his shoes off. They land with a _thud_ on the carpet next to him, and Zhengting goes to grab them and put them on the rack next to his door.

He walks off down the hallway to change and brush his teeth, telling Justin what he’s going to do. He expects the latter to be gone by the time he walks back out into his living room, but that’s not really the case.

Justin has dropped the pillow onto the floor, his hands hanging off of the couch as he’s rolled to the side. When Zhengting leans over and looks at him, he’s very clearly asleep, his breaths steady and shallow, eyes closed.

Zhengting sighs. He wants to let the kid sleep, but he’s still wearing his clothing from the party and the smaller space of the couch probably isn’t a healthy place to sleep for someone who’s tall.

“Justin,” Zhengting murmurs, nudging the boy’s shoulder. “Justin,” he repeats.

Justin cracks an eye open.

“You need to go back home,” Zhengting reminds.

Justin whines. “I’m too tired,” he murmurs, “carry me?” he adds, with a giggle.

“You’re like, the same size as me,” Zhengting says, pursing his lips. Justin’s face is still flushed, maybe even more pink than before, and along with his giddy smile and the way his voice had pitched slightly higher, he’s obviously a little bit tipsy. Also known as, probably can’t process logic very well either. “I can’t carry you up a flight of stairs,” Zhengting adds, with a sigh.

The boy just giggles again. “Then let me stay here,” he says.

“You’re going to wake up with a neck cramp, my couch isn’t as large as the one you have,” Zhengting replies.

“Okay, fine.” Justin shakily stands up, and Zhengting walks over to his door, about to open it, until he realizes that that’s not exactly where Justin is heading.

The boy just disappears down the hallway.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Zhengting exclaims, chasing after him.

“I’ll take your bed then, and you can have the couch!” Justin replies, throwing a smile over his shoulder.

“Like I said, I’m basically the same size as you,” Zhengting mutters, with an exasperated sigh. “You managed to walk your way down to my bedroom, now why can’t you walk your way upstairs?”

“It’s now a longer way to go,” Justin says, “don’t really want to.” He seems to remember that he’s still wearing his coat, and he shrugs it off onto the floor as he rolls himself onto Zhengting’s bed. Well, the bed, but also the sheets of paper that crinkle underneath him because a certain university student left all of his paperwork for the new semester on his blankets.

The boy doesn’t seem to care though, and he just closes his eyes.

“I take my words back, Victoria should compensate me with something,” Zhengting mutters. He climbs onto his bed, nudging Justin aside with his knee. The boy rolls over easily, now facing the wall. Basically, he's dead weight.

Zhengting sighs, and walks into his living room, turning off the lights. When he returns, he takes one more glance at Justin, before rubbing his eyes from both exhaustion and exasperation, clicking off the lamp on his nightstand, and climbing underneath his covers.


	6. 鐘

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because I royally fucked up y'all get an extra chapter this week

**鐘:** _In the name of time, what exactly does a timepiece represent?_

* * *

He wakes up with a corner of his blanket grasped in his hands. His arms are warm and covered, but his legs and feet sadly are not.

Zhengting grimaces, rubbing one of his toes against his ankle. His skin’s cold, alright. He tries to pull more of his blanket over him, but something seems to be sitting on top of it, preventing him from grabbing at any more of the cloth.

A moment later, he cracks open a eye.

 _Oh, right_. He realizes who’s hogging all of his blanket. Or rather, not so much “hogging”, more like just simply laying on top of.

Zhengting sits up. Sometime in the middle of the night, Justin had rolled over to Zhengting’s side of the bed. He’d been pressed up almost right next to the him, which pulled a lot of Zhengting’s blanket off of him and only left him with a corner.

He pushes Justin’s shoulder, and the boy falls flat on his back without any resistance. His eye twitches, but he doesn’t wake up.

Zhengting stares. Justin is still wearing what he’d worn last night -- _of course_ , Zhengting thinks, because wouldn’t it be odd if Justin were somehow in his pajamas? After he'd magically passed out on Zhengting’s bed last night.

The collar of Justin’s shirt is pulled over, one side of it pressed flush against his neck while the other exposes part of his shoulder and collarbone. He’s a little bit bony, Zhengting thinks, something he’d never noticed before -- sure, the boy is thin, he’s lean and lithe just like his mother, but Zhengting has never seen him wear anything that exposes his collar or his shoulders.

Justin slowly opens his eyes the next moment, having sensed someone staring at him. There’s sleep at the corners of his eyes, and he brings a hand up to rub at them.

When he realizes _who_ exactly is staring at him, his eyes widen in shock. “Wait, why are you in my room?” he asks.

“...This is my room,” Zhengting replies slowly. Justin looks confused for a moment, until Zhengting reminds him, “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Justin pauses. “Oh,” he says, after a second, “oh, I do.” And then he sits up suddenly, a look of panic flitting over his face. “Oh, man, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-- I don’t know--”

Zhengting just sighs. “Relax,” he replies, “I’m not angry, I just needed you to move over so I can have some of my blanket back.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. “Oh, sorry about that.” He scoots over.

“Thanks,” Zhengting says, before laying back down. “I’m going to go back to sleep, because my clock says it’s seven and I never plan on waking up at seven, so you’re free to do whatever you want. Just please don’t start my stove or anything like that.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, again. “Oh, okay.” And then a second after, he lifts the other corner of the blanket. “Can I…?” he asks, his voice trailing off.

“Well, yeah,” Zhengting replies with a small laugh, “I don’t intend on having you freeze to death.”

“Right,” Justin murmurs. “Thanks,” he adds.

Zhengting just laughs, before turning over and burying his face into his blanket. _Ah_ , _the warmth_ , he thinks. Finally.

He wakes up three hours later with a foot against his leg.

Zhengting just sighs, glancing over next to him. Justin is still sound asleep, so he takes care to be as quiet as possible when he gets up. There's three missed calls from his mother when he glances at his phone, but he deletes all of them. He knows his mother will be back -- he just wants to ignore her for now.

Justin wanders out sometime when Zhengting is checking his email with a cup of tea sitting next to him.

“Slept well?” Zhengting asks, glancing over from his laptop screen.

“Yeah,” Justin replies, rubbing his eyes. He looks a little bit disoriented.

Zhengting walks up to him. “Are you okay?”

The boy nods. “When did you wake up?” he asks.

“Maybe an hour or so,” Zhengting replies.

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, “I'm sorry for--”

Zhengting holds up a hand. “Like I said, it's perfectly okay. I don't mind you sleeping over, just give me a warning next time,” he says, with a soft laugh. “Now, brush your teeth and then come back down here for breakfast. I'll start cooking now.” He places his hands on Justin's shoulders, turning him towards the door.

“Oh, thank you,” Justin murmurs, but Zhengting just replies, “You’ve thanked me more than you needed to.”

He purposely makes more food than normal, the image of Justin's collarbone prominent against his skin flashing in his mind. He can remember the picture well -- the skin on the boy's neck and part of his shoulder was smooth, uniform, making the shadows created by his collarbone soft but dark. Zhengting almost wanted to reach out and run his thumb over the bone, but he ignores that thought. Because really, he should be focusing on cooking.

“...You made more than usual, didn't you?” Justin asks, when he returns to Zhengting's apartment.

Yes, Zhengting used six eggs instead of his usual three when he scrambled them. There's two more slices of _bing_ sitting on the plate. He also purposely filled Justin's bowl of porridge a little bit closer to the top than usual.

“Really? I didn't notice,” Zhengting replies nonchalantly. “Just eat,” he says, taking his own seat at the table.

The boy eats all of the food Zhengting gives him. Maybe it's because he actually has an appetite able to support that, or maybe it's just the alcohol from last night making him hungry, Zhengting doesn't know. But he just wonders why in the world he's been cooking only so much -- or rather, why Justin didn't say anything if he wanted more food to eat.

His thoughts are pushed to the back of his mind as the day progresses. He logs on to World of Warcraft and plays with Hyeongseop and Euiwoong, with Justin next to him as usual. When he asks where Seunghyuk is, he gets a laugh and a “Did you know? He _actually_ landed a date!”

They play until it's evening, and Zhengting has to go stretch his back before he walks into the kitchen to see what he can do for dinner. Everything goes smoothly, and he even gets a video call from Victoria asking if everything is going well.

“Perfect,” he replies, with a smile, showing her the dish he made.

“I'm glad,” she says. “How's Minghao holding up? Is he still disappointed?”

“I don't think so,” Zhengting replies, glancing over at the boy on the couch, “I didn't even notice he was disappointed in the first place.”

“Ah,” Victoria murmurs. She sighs. “Again, I'm so sorry I can't be there. I'll be back for New Year’s, though.”

“It's okay,” Zhengting laughs, “we'll see you then, alright? Just focus on your work for now.”

Victoria ends the call with a wish for a good night, and Zhengting calls over Justin to eat.

After dinner, when both of them are lazing around on the couch again, Zhengting asks, “For breakfast, do you want me to cook more?”

Justin looks up from his phone. “Why?” he replies.

“I did purposely make more today,” Zhengting begins. “And you ate it all. So I thought, that must've meant that I haven't been making enough in the first place.”

Justin shrugs. “You can decide,” he replies.

Zhengting sighs. “Tell me the truth,” he says, “it's my responsibility to give you whatever you need.”

“No, really, it's o--”

“ _Justin_.” Zhengting looks at him pointedly.

The boy pauses. “Well, okay,” he begins, quietly, “I don't mind if you make more.”

Zhengting takes that as _yes,_ he has been undercooking.

“Why didn't you say anything sooner?” he asks. “Now I feel bad.”

Justin shrugs. “I don't know,” he murmurs, “I think I'm just not used to asking these kinds of things.”

“Because there's no one for you to ask, right?” Zhengting replies. His expression softens when Justin looks at him with some sort of subdued melancholy, like there's a struggle in his eyes but it's a struggle that is entirely subconscious.

“I always wondered,” Zhengting begins, “about how you seemed so independent. You’re home alone a lot of the time, you've learned to care for yourself. Victoria leaves you alone most of them time, but you're not like any kid who's been neglected by their parent.”

“I understand her,” Justin replies, quietly, “I understand why she isn't home a lot of the time. It's not her fault, she can't change her work schedule just for me.”

And then Zhengting asks, the moment after, “Why do you make it sound like you're not important?” He doesn't mean for his words to be gruff, but they come out slightly so. However, it's the truth, it's what he's been thinking the whole time. Justin retracts from situations where he might tread into another person's responsibilities, even if he's got a perfectly plausible reason for doing so.

“Huh?” Justin replies. His eyes are wide. The way he’s got his arms held in front of him, his wrists bent and hands hanging -- he’s caught off-guard and hesitant. Not necessarily surprised, but what he’s just heard is entirely unexpected to him.

Zhengting is wary of whether he should keep on pursuing the subject or not. He stares at Justin for a second, looking his face up and down to see if there are any noticeable signs of discomfort -- any noticeable signs that the boy was about to recoil back into his mindset of “this makes me uneasy so I’ll just avoid the subject”.

But there is none, at least so far. Zhengting himself feels quite restless at that moment, a mix of worry, tension, and nervousness in his stomach. Worry, because he’s truly concerned about Justin’s state of mind. Tension, because the air around him instantly turned heavy with his last question. Nervousness, because he’s completely unsure how the boy will take his words.

He doesn’t want to harm the relationship they’ve created over the past several months. It took some time for Justin to become comfortable with him, and even then, the boy’s still not an open book. He’s not an open book to anyone -- not even himself, it seems.

“I thought you were just shy,” Zhengting begins, gently. “I thought it was just because you’re quiet and you don’t like being around strangers too much. But I’m not a stranger anymore to you, am I?”

Justin shakes his head slowly. His expression still hasn’t changed -- he’s still staring at Zhengting with his eyes wide, his body frozen.

“You’re so self-reliant for someone your age,” Zhengting continues, “and I thought it was just because you’ve simply had to take care of yourself, but then you also refuse to rely on other people. Maybe there’s something besides your independence that makes you like that.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Justin asks. His voice is mostly level, maybe a little bit higher than usual, but to Zhengting, what he just asked seems like a genuine question, not an attempt at being hostile.

“You understand your mother, don’t you?” Zhengting asks. Justin nods silently in response. “Do you know exactly why she asked me to come here? Why she gave me the key to her apartment, and told me to take care of you?”

“I just thought she was worried about me,” Justin replies, softly.

“Well, yes, that’s one part of it. But do you know what she told me the first night I got here?”

Justin shakes his head.

“She told me she felt like she was neglecting you.”

The boy stays silent, his eyes unblinking. If anything, he looks a little bit surprised.

“Even though she may not consciously know it, she still realizes that you feel isolated from her. Isolated from everybody, really. I know you’ve told me you’re a bit lonely before. I’m here not only to cook for you and drive you and help you with your homework, I’m also here to help you feel less lonely.”

Zhengting pauses, taking a slow breath. Justin is still motionless.

“You’re my responsibility, but that doesn’t mean I regard you as a chore, Justin. And I also told you that you are important to me, right?”

Zhengting sees Justin visibly gulp. The boy nods.

“That’s not just because your mother would go at me if I thought otherwise,” Zhengting adds, with a soft laugh. “So, please don’t act like your opinion and what you say and want don’t matter. They do, they matter to me, okay?”

For the next moment, Justin is silent. And then, he turns his head away from Zhengting, running a hand through his hair.

Zhengting is confused, but he quickly realizes what’s going on.

“Hey,” he says, softly, scooting closer. “Hey, why are you crying? There’s nothing you should be crying about.” He lifts his hand, running a thumb near the corner of Justin’s eye. There’s only one tear that’s escaped, but his pupils are bright and shiny. When he blinks, there’s a droplet gathering at the corner of his other eye.

“Why are you so nice?” Justin asks, his voice shaking just slightly. “Why are you so _right_?” His hands are grasped onto his shirt, wrinkling the cotton in his grip. He almost looks nervous with the way he's staring up at Zhengting, the slightest of trembles on his lips. Yet, there's something stronger than nervousness on his expression -- it's consciousness there, so powerful and vivid, as if he were just woken from a years-long dream. And coupled with that, there's a little bit of fear. Fear of his consciousness.

Zhengting smiles. “You’ve just never realized it, huh?” he murmurs.

Justin shakes his head. He rubs his eye with the back of his hand.

“You’re not used to people bothering to care about you, aren’t you?” And when the boy doesn’t answer, Zhengting knows he’s correct. He smiles, softly. “I’m nice because I’m nice. I’m right, because, well, spending time with you has given me an opportunity to learn a lot about you. And remember, I take philosophy. I’m supposed to be deep.”

Justin smiles too, a small huff escaping his lips. He doesn’t dare look at Zhengting, his eyes cast off to the side as he blinks away the moisture in his eyes.

“You know your mother cares about you, but she’s just completely clueless on _how_ to care about you. I bet Sicheng cares about you as well, even though he might never say anything like that. And then there’s me, I care about you too. I’m just the only person that’s bothered to say it straight to your face. So, Justin, there’s absolutely no need for you to invalidate yourself.”

Zhengting places his palms gently on the tops of Justin’s hands. “Can I?” he asks.

Justin nods, his gaze still averted.

Zhengting grabs the boy’s hands, sliding his own palms underneath and holding Justin’s fingers with a relaxed grip.

“Would you say we’re friends?” he asks. “I won’t be offended if you say ‘no’,” he adds, with a laugh.

“Yes, we’re friends,” Justin replies. His lips twist in an odd smile, probably a result of his emotions and an attempt at laughing at Zhengting’s poor joke.

“Then as your friend, I’m here to make you feel less lonely,” Zhengting says, with the most reassuring smile he can muster, “okay? So you can tell me anything. Whatever you want, just tell me.”

“...Can I get a hug?” Justin asks, a moment later.

Zhengting laughs softly at his request, but he murmurs, “Of course.”

There’s silence for several long seconds, the air in the room suspended, as if those several seconds had stretched into minutes. Justin buries his face into Zhengting’s shoulder, and Zhengting rubs circles on the boy’s back.

“I don’t like being lonely,” Justin murmurs, “I don't _want_ to be lonely. But I suppose that’s how it is with my family.”

“Maybe it can’t be helped that things are like this,” Zhengting replies. “But, at least, I’m here now.”

Justin sniffs before taking a shuddering breath. He pulls back, and when he looks up at Zhengting there’s no longer tears on his cheeks, but his eyes are still gleaming in the yellow lighting of the living room. A small smile appears on his lips. “Thank you,” he says.

Zhengting just laughs and ruffles his hair. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now, what do you want to do for the rest of the night?”

Justin sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “That just made me tired,” he murmurs, “I want to go sleep now.”

“Well, alright,” Zhengting replies, with a chuckle, “just not on my couch, because I don’t want you being cramped.”

* * *

His mother calls him the next morning. “I’ve found a nice girl here in Beijing,” she says, the instant he picks up the phone, “since it’s break, you come up here and meet her.”

Zhengting almost bangs his head on his dining table at that moment. “ _No_ ,” he says. “What did I tell you last time we spoke?”

“Would you rather I bring her down to Tianjin to see you?” his mother asks, completely disregarding his question.

“ _No_ , mother, what did I just say?” he replies, with a hard edge of frustration in his voice. “Why are you so insistent that I meet someone? Why can’t my life just be separate from your meddling?”

“I’m not meddling, Zhengting-ah, I’m just doing what’s best--”

“I _understand_ why you’re doing this, but I swear, mother, I don’t need your help! I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to simply mind your own damn business!” he exclaims, a bit of a growl peeking through his tone. He winces slightly -- he really doesn’t want to be rude to his mom of all people, but with the way she’s being so pushy he’s becoming extremely agitated. “I didn’t come back to China just so you could interfere with my decisions -- I’m an adult, for pete’s sake!”

The line is silent for a moment. Zhengting’s breaths are quicker than normal.

“...I just--” his mother begins.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes. “But please, please, _please_ stop calling me about this. My answer to you every time will be the same, and I assure you that if I do end up dating someone you’ll be the first to know about it.” His tone is a little bit cold. He wants to sound unwelcoming but also doesn’t want to at the same time. If it will get his mother off of his back, then he needs to be relentless, but at the same time it's a precarious road to travel as he doesn't want to seem like an ungrateful kid. “I’m going to hang up now,” he says, when there’s nothing but silence, “happy holidays.”

He presses the end call button on his phone, and when he looks up, there’s Justin staring at him from behind the corner of the hallway, having returned from the bathroom.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Zhengting says. He sighs, closing his eyes, and falls back against his chair, a hand coming up to cover his eyes.

“I never thought you could get angry,” Justin murmurs, as he walks over to Zhengting.

Zhengting just cracks a small smile. “I can,” he replies, “I just don’t like to. Or more like, I don’t like showing people my anger.” He sighs, his palm still covering his eyes, before adding, “Ah, now I feel bad. Maybe I should call her back.”

“Don’t,” Justin says.

Zhengting lifts his hand off of his face, and looks at the boy curiously.

“It’ll just give her another opening to bother you.”

“You’re right,” Zhengting murmurs.

“Even in your adult years you’re still dealing with your mom caring too much, huh?” Justin asks, with a wistful smile.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” Zhengting replies.

Justin giggles softly. “Then, it looks like we’re opposites,” he says. “One of us is an adult with a mother that involves herself too much. And the other one is a kid with a mother that doesn’t involve herself enough.”

* * *

On Christmas day, Zhengting wakes up earlier than usual. He still has to be careful moving around his apartment, though, as Justin is still asleep on the other side of the bed. They'd been staying up late for the past few days watching reruns of terrible TV shows (“So this is what _If You Are the One_ is,” Justin had said, squinting at the screen, “interesting.”) Or, they'd been running about on WoW because a certain someone insisted they wanted to collect enough holly to get the limited edition reindeer mount before time ran out.

He cooks breakfast a little differently today. Rock sugar and dried lily petals are added into the porridge, there's a small stack of cookie rolls next to the plate of _bing_ , and instead of eggs he steams a pot full of _cha xiu bao_. When Justin appears around the corner, rubbing his eyes, he goes, “Wow, that smells nice. What's it for?”

“It's Christmas morning, silly,” Zhengting replies, with a smile. “Merry Christmas, Justin.”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, a look of realization passing over his face, “oh, it is. Merry Christmas, Zhengting.”

“Go and brush your teeth, this all will be cool enough to eat by the time you finish,” Zhengting tells him, with a laugh.

After breakfast, Justin asks him if he still has cookie rolls left in the tin. Zhengting laughs, bringing them over. “How'd you know I like the almond ones?” Justin asks, and Zhengting just shrugs and replies with, “I pay attention to you more than you think. You can eat these, but not too many at a time. If Victoria finds out you have a cavity or that you've gained a lot of weight, she's going to blame me. And also, I am kinda the one to blame.”

Justin giggles at his response. “For your sake then,” he says, “I'll hold off.”

Zhengting gets up and tells Justin to wait where he is. The boy complies, although not without asking why, but the only response he gets is a smile and, “You'll see.”

Zhengting easily finds the box he's hidden in the back of his closet, covered in red metallic wrapping paper with a gold ribbon. He's got a small smile on his face when he reappears into the living room with it in his hands, and that smile turns into a laugh when Justin's eyes widen as he asks, “That's not for me, is it?”

“Who else is in this room right now?” Zhengting replies. He sets the box on the boy's lap.

“You didn't have to… I didn't expect you to,” Justin murmurs, staring at the object sitting in his legs.

“Maybe I didn't have to, but I wanted to,” Zhengting says. “Come on, go and open it.”

Justin is meticulous with unwrapping. He peels the tape off of the paper carefully instead of ripping right into it as most people would. Zhengting lets him take his time, watching as he sits cross-legged on one side of the couch.

And then when the boy opens the lid of the shoebox inside, he starts giggling at what he sees.

“Why are you laughing?” Zhengting asks.

“You're going to get blamed either way by my mom, it seems,” Justin replies, with a giddy smile on his face. “You didn't have to buy _two_ boxes of chocolate _and_ lucky candy, Zhengting.”

Zhengting just rolls his eyes. “Didn't know what flavors to choose, so I kinda just bought things with everything in them,” he replies.

“Oh,” Justin murmurs, “thanks. I'll eat it all.” He lifts up another item from inside the box, one wrapped in green tissue paper. “What's this?”

“Go ahead and unwrap it,” Zhengting says.

Justin does, and when he sees the red of the petals he runs his fingers over them, his expression softening. “This,” he begins, quietly, “this is even more beautiful than the one I saw. Where did you get it?”

“In a jewelry shop when I was shopping with Xuanyi,” Zhengting replies. “I saw it, and I instantly thought of you.” He laughs when he sees Justin lift the clip up, holding it against his hair as a smile breaks across his lips.

“I love it,” Justin murmurs, dropping his hand and holding it in his palm, “it's really pretty.”

Zhengting reaches out, taking the clip and pulling it out of the slot on its paper tag. “Here,” he says, holding it up. He leans forward, his fingertips just brushing against Justin's forehead as he pushes back the bangs on one side of the boy's head.

Justin watches him carefully, his eyes never leaving Zhengting's face, even though Zhengting is following the movement of his hands with his own eyes.

He clips the flower onto Justin's hair. His fingers follow the length of the boy's locks, tucking them behind his ear. As he runs his hands around Justin's ear, his fingertips barely touch the skin there, before dropping to the boy's shoulders. His hands are placed there, only for a moment, suspended in a second of silence where there's nothing in the room but him and Justin, staring at each other with some kind of quiet understanding.

And the next moment, Zhengting smiles. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Something in his chest flutters when Justin ducks his head, blinking a few times before meekly looking up at Zhengting.

“Thank you,” he replies, his voice soft and his eyes filled with both bashfulness and wonder. “I wish I had gotten you something, Zhengting.”

Zhengting shakes his head. “I don't need anything,” he says. “As long as you're happy.”

Justin looks away. There's a very faint dusting of pink on his temples and his ears.

Zhengting laughs, leaning forward and enveloping the boy in a hug.

* * *

Victoria’s plane lands three days before New Year’s. Zhengting has to go out and drive at three in the morning because of an ugly thing called flight delays. Justin falls asleep against him, having been insistent on waiting for his mother’s return, yet it seems that the recent string of late nights has taken a toll on him.

Still, when Zhengting rises from his spot on the couch to go and get his keys and his coat, Justin wakes up.

“Go back to sleep,” Zhengting says. “I’ll be back in three or four hours. I don’t expect you to stay up that long. And besides, it’s probably not healthy.”

“Then what about you? You have to drive,” Justin replies, yawning, his voice slightly faint.

“I’m an adult, and I took a nap earlier today,” Zhengting says, with a smile. He walks over and crouches in front of Justin. “You see?” he adds, rubbing away the sleep at the corner of the boy’s left eye with his thumb, “You’ve got dark circles too. Go to bed, your mother won’t be devastated if you’re not awake when she’s back.”

Justin blinks slowly, slightly leaning into Zhengting’s hand. “Fine,” he murmurs, after a couple of seconds. Zhengting smiles, ruffling his hair.

“Good night, I’ll be back with Victoria in a few hours,” he says. Justin nods, sliding off the couch and disappearing down the hallway.

Zhengting takes a deep breath before opening the door, exposing him to the biting, dark cold of the night.

It’s so cold that when he and Victoria hug underneath the yellow lights of the overhanging roof above him, their laughter creates clouds in the air that dissipate after a few seconds.

When he pulls back and takes a closer look at Victoria, she’s obviously much more exhausted than last time he saw her. The bags under her eyes are more pronounced, her complexion just a little bit more dull, her face just a little bit more sunken. But she hasn’t lost that lively gleam in her eyes, and that’s how Zhengting knows she’s okay.

“Has Minghao given you any trouble?” Victoria asks, as they’re walking to the parking garage.

Zhengting shakes his head. “Quite the opposite, really,” he says.

“What, he’s been helpful?” Victoria replies, with a small laugh. “I mean, I don’t mean to discredit you or him, but I just imagined two young men essentially living together would create a mess of an apartment and a lot of chaos.”

Zhengting huffs. “Oh come on,” he scoffs, “you sound like you don’t think I’m responsible.”

“If I did, do you think I would trust you with my son?” Victoria asks.

Zhengting shrugs. “Probably not,” he responds, with a small laugh. “Anyways, he’s quite a good kid. I think he might even be beginning to grow attached to me.”

“That’s good,” Victoria comments. She smiles. “He needs someone in his life that he can be attached to and simultaneously will be there for him.” She takes a deep breath, watching the puff of air from her breath in front of her disappear. “Because you know, he doesn’t really have anyone like that.”

“Yeah,” Zhengting hums. He momentarily considers telling Victoria how exactly lonely her son was, but he closes his mouth because if he said something like that, it wouldn’t result in anything but potentially more problems for both Victoria and Justin. And, Zhengting doesn’t want to be caught in the middle of that. “I took him to Chengcheng’s for his family’s Christmas party,” he says.

Victoria instantly narrows her eyes. “You’re not trying to corrupt my son, are you?” she asks.

Zhengting laughs. “No, no,” he replies, “I didn’t let him do drunken karaoke with the others.” And then when Victoria opens her mouth in shock, he quickly adds, “I swear, I didn’t let him get drunk either. But did he learn how to hold a wine glass from you?”

Victoria shrugs. “You mean that thing I do where I hold the stem between two of my fingers?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably,” she says, with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve never seen him do that, but since I’m his mom, he’s probably just watched me and tried it himself. Bad influence, I know.”

“Eh,” Zhengting shrugs, “not the worst. Not even close.”

“Thanks,” Victoria replies, and she sighs. “I’m just so glad I’m home. I mean, my work is also my home to me, but something just doesn’t… feel right being away from here.”

“I get you,” Zhengting murmurs. “Just relax for now, okay? You’ve had a long trip.”

Victoria laughs. “Thanks,” she says, “glad you’re here, Zhengting.”

Zhengting smiles, closing his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, he sees the wisps of his breath in the cold air in front of him linger.

* * *

When he shuts the door behind him and sets down Victoria’s suitcase, she sighs, raising her arms in the air to stretch. “Ah!” she murmurs. “Home, my wonderful home.” She looks around herself for a moment, before asking, “Minghao is sleeping, right?”

And at that moment, Justin appears around the corner.

“He was,” Zhengting replies, with a laugh. “I thought I told you to go to sleep,” he tells Justin.

“Well, I woke up,” Justin says, with a shrug. He goes up to his mom. “Welcome home, mom,” he murmurs, and Victoria has a wide smile on her face as she envelops him in her embrace.

“I missed you, Minghao,” she whispers, her cheek against Justin’s shoulder.

A small smile appears on Justin’s lips. “I missed you too,” he replies.

Zhengting chuckles softly. “I’ll take my leave now,” he says, and glances at the time on his phone. “I’ll see you both later in the morning. Or more likely the afternoon.”

Victoria retracts herself from her son, and she approaches Zhengting, giving him a hug as well. “Thank you so much,” she says, “sleep well, Zhengting.”

Zhengting waves at them both, before turning around and opening the door. He takes a deep breath of the chilly air, the sky outside only just a little bit lighter than it was when he returned. For the first time that day, he feels truly exhausted.

* * *

When Zhengting sits down and hands Victoria the box with the scarf he bought her, she has the same reaction as Justin -- except, just a little different.

“You really didn’t have to,” she says, “I know you’re basically broke.”

Zhengting sighs into his hand. “Just stop talking and open it,” he mutters.

Victoria compliments him on his choice with the scarf. Justin, sitting next to her, agrees, and he helps her tie it into a bow around her neck. It looks kind of odd, with Victoria in her pajamas with a large multicolored silk bow hanging in front of her shirt, but she insists on wearing it and looking at herself in the mirror. She runs her fingertips over the silk, admiring how smooth it is, before she turns around and gives Zhengting a hug.

Later, she opens her duffel bag, taking out cloth wrapped in plastic sleeves -- it’s clothing, Zhengting realizes, after he sees the collar on one of the shirts. She hands a small stack of them to Justin -- “For you, Minghao,” she says, before she pulls out a smaller stack and a black box and places them on Zhengting’s lap.

“Victoria,” Zhengting begins, looking at the first garment sitting on his thighs, “this isn’t clothing from the collection that was featured in your company’s campaign, is it?”

“It is,” Victoria replies, simply.

“Holy crap,” Zhengting whispers, his eyes widening. “You’re not giving them to me, are you? I know this is expensive, and really, I can’t aff--”

“Oh, shush,” Victoria interrupt, rolling her eyes. “It’s your Christmas gift, and besides, it didn’t cost me anything -- I mean, this brand doesn’t even cost more than things I usually buy anyways. The overstock from the one of the carriers in Singapore just happened to be in your size.”

“He needs new clothing,” Justin comments, quietly. Both of the adults turn around to look at him. “He took me shopping, and things could use improvement.”

Victoria looks at Zhengting. “See?” She raises an eyebrow. “Even Minghao agrees.”

Zhengting purses his lips. “Okay, I understand Victoria picking on me, but now why you too, Justin?” he asks, jokingly.

Justin simply responds, “But it’s true.”

Victoria laughs at her son’s statement, patting him on the shoulder. “So yeah,” she says, turning back to Zhengting. “Take it.”

Zhengting sighs, shaking his head. “What’s in here?” he asks, holding up the box.

“Now I’m just waiting for your reaction,” Victoria replies, with a sweet smile.

Zhengting takes a deep breath. This could either be great, or it could be terrible. He flips open the lid, and inside, sitting on a black velvet cushion, is a silver watch, gleaming prettily in the daylight.

“Oh god,” he murmurs. “Seriously? Victoria, _seriously_? I don’t even _need_ a new watch, and this is so--”

“If you’re about to say expensive, like I told you, overstock,” Victoria replies, holding up her hands. “Thought it was pretty, not too plain and not too fancy. Would fit you nicely.”

Zhengting rubs his finger on the wristband, the ridges of the silver metal cool and smooth beneath his fingertip.

“And besides,” Victoria adds, “if your mother sees it, she might think you have a girlfriend who can afford nice things and then she’ll leave you alone.”

“Or she might think I’m a soft rice eater,” Zhengting replies, with a flat expression on his face.

Victoria shakes her head. “Nah,” she murmurs. “You’re not that type.”

“I kinda already feel like one,” Zhengting sighs, “because of you.”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Except I’ve been through a divorce, my work takes up just as much time as my husband did, and I’m not about to date you because I changed your diapers as a baby and you’re--” she glances next to her at Justin, who all of a sudden looks a little uneasy, “--basically the same age as my _son_.” If anything, Justin relaxes.

Victoria takes the box from Zhengting’s hands. She slips out the velvet cushion, unclipping the watch from it. “Give me your wrist,” she says, holding out her hand.

Zhengting complies, and she clips it around his wrist, adjusting the band before letting go of his hand. “See?” she says. “It’s looks great on you.”

Zhengting holds up his wrist in front of him, watching the silver reflect in the light. The quartz inside the head of the watch has a faint iridescent sheen, and the gold of its hands glimmer.

He glances over, and he sees Justin staring at it too. “What do you think, Justin?” he asks.

Justin looks at him, momentarily surprised. “Oh,” he begins, “I think it looks quite elegant.”

Zhengting smiles, admiring the watch for another few seconds before he puts down his hand. “Thank you, Victoria,” he says, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ve already said the only thing you needed to,” she replies, with an equal smile. “Happy holidays, Zhengting.”

 

* * *

New Year's passes as quickly as winter break had. Victoria relaxes on her couch, with Zhengting in the middle and Justin leaning on him while grabbing at the popcorn from the bowl in his lap, watching the fiasco at Tiananmen Square on the TV. Zhengting's parents send him photos of the performers and the food stalls, asking why their son is just staying home like a hermit. But then Zhengting glances at the two people he's sitting next to, and says he's perfectly content where he is.

Seunghyuk, one hour ahead in Seoul, asks him to please rescue him because he saw Hyeongseop and Euiwoong making kissy faces at each other right before the clock hit twelve. He says he feels like choking. When Zhengting asks him about the date he supposedly had, Seunghyuk sighs. “Those rascals,” he mutters, “I was having a meeting with my potential new boss!” And then he adds, after lifting his hand off of his face, “That Hyeongseop said was hot. _Again._ ”

Zhengting offers his condolences, but Seunghyuk still looks like he wants to cry.

And then, after winter break, everything reverts back to normal. Mostly. Zhengting struggles keeping a straight face around Justin while in school. He struggles with resisting the urge to reach out and pat the boy somewhere, whether it be his head or his shoulder, simply because they both had gotten much more used to physical contact with the time they'd spent together during break. It's a little bit weird, when Zhengting leans over him in the middle of class to help him with something and then Justin stares at him silently, his eyes just slightly wider than usual, and gulps. And then Zhengting all of a sudden gets nervous and he's gulping and they're both staring at each other silently and gulping until one of them turns their face away and fake coughs.

He thinks he should probably just tell Justin to never ask questions in class, but what kind of irresponsible teaching assistant would he be if he told any kid, let alone Justin, that?

He chalks it up to the fact that he's basically Justin's caretaker -- maybe even to some degree, his replacement parent, as odd as that may sound. When you're a caretaker, you obviously want to coddle your children, right? And then being reminded he's in a professional setting where hugs are weird, now that all of a sudden feels strange.

Not to mention the fact that he says something and then the kids just do it. Xuanyi is coaxing him into beginning lesson planning, giving Zhengting half a rein and a whole load of “what am I even going to do". Which basically amounts to his observation that a classroom is basically a mini dictatorship, not really a family environment. He certainly wouldn't walk up to Justin while they're at home in their pajamas, hand him a packet, and ask him to please write an essay comparing and contrasting the information in these two articles -- which, by the way, is due in two days because that's what the lesson plan he made says. But apparently, in school that's what you do and Zhengting feels a little bad whenever he has to do these things to Justin, but then he reminds himself to stop whining -- that's favoritism and he's one step closer to just flat out writing the damn essay for the poor boy.

Justin seems to notice this too -- he places a hand on Zhengting's shoulder and sheepishly says, “I swear, I'm okay, Zhengting,” whenever Zhengting leans over him while he's at the computer doing whatever educational project he needs to do.

“If you're so worried, just don't assign me homework,” Justin jokes one day.

“I’d get fired and maybe even expelled,” Zhengting replies, rolling his eyes.

Justin also has developed a liking for ice skating, but sadly Zhengting can't exactly take him. It's no longer break, people are back in town, and what kind of teacher takes a random kid in their class to the ice rink on the weekends? They both never really had a problem with appearances in public, but now that there's an active interest in at least one of them to go outside, suddenly it becomes a new conflict.

It would be much easier with Victoria, because then things would look a little less strange. But even on Victoria's less busy days, she's content with relaxing--not that Zhengting can blame her--and she swore off dangerous sports a long time ago.

And then on the rare day the three of them do go out to the mall, since Victoria wants a new suit, Zhengting is reminded of two things. First, the fact that the clothing Victoria gave him is still hanging in his closet, because he has no clue how to wear them; the watch is in the same state, because he's too nervous to wear something so nice out. And second, how exactly underdressed he is compared to the stylish mom and her stylish son, which prompts him to tell himself that he has to do something about his wardrobe one day.

Victoria does end up buying that shirt that Justin saw when he was shopping with Zhengting. Zhengting laughs as Justin twirls around in it again right in front of him, the tail flying out behind the boy in a whirl of white. The red poinsettia clip holds back his bangs, the petals ruffling in the air with his movement. When Victoria first saw it, her initial comment was, “Wow, it's very pretty.” And then she asked, “Why does Justin have it?” Zhengting just replied, “I bought it for him.” Victoria had shrugged and walked away.

Seeing Justin in his new shirt reminds Zhengting that he really needs to reshuffle his closet. He asks Justin for help, and the boy happily bounds after him down the hallway to Zhengting's bedroom.

Justin tells him to just sit on the bed and wait as he digs around in the closet.

Zhengting complies, pleased he doesn't have to do anything, but also worried because it's been a few minutes and Justin looks like he's having a hard time.

Another few minutes of shuffling and Justin reaches the section of Zhengting's closet where the clothing that Victoria gave him hangs.

“Why do you not wear these?” Justin asks, pulling out a shirt.

“Don't know how to style something like that,” Zhengting replies. “Feels like I either need a suit and dress shoes or I look like I'm trying too hard.”

“Not really,” Justin says. The shirt he's holding is a white short-sleeved button-down with black accents, loose in the torso and wide sleeves, collar low-hanging and buttons pearly. “This,” he begins, and then he walks over and drops it next to Zhengting. He returns to the closet. “You can just wear a pair of regular black pants with it, but they have to be slimmer. Or else you might end up looking weird because the shirt is already loose.” He retrieves one of Zhengting's pairs of black jeans, dropping it on top of the shirt. “You don't need to wear dress shoes or anything, you can get away with sneakers. As long as they're clean. White ones would probably look best.” And then he glances at the black box sitting on the desk next to him. “Can't forget the finishing touch.”

He grabs the box and the two garments, holding then in front of Zhengting. “Go try,” he says.

Zhengting just nods silently and begins to unbutton the shirt, his movements slow because the material feels rich underneath his fingertips and he's never owned something like it.

When he slips on both his pants and the shirt, Justin clasps the watch on for him before guiding him to the mirror. “See?” he says, giggling. “You look nice.”

Zhengting stares at himself for a moment, before quietly saying, “Yeah, I really do.” He looks much more put-together than he does on a regular basis. If anything, he also appears much more mature. Less college student-y.

“Take a picture for me?” he asks, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

Justin laughs and agrees.

Zhengting looks much more natural this time, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. The watch on his wrist gleams in the photo, just as it does in real life.

When he posts it onto his Weibo and Kakao story, Hyeongseop likes the photo within a minute, and Zhengting is secretly glad his friend doesn't leave a comment.

But Euiwoong does anyway.

 _Euiwoong:_ Hyeongseop says you look hot...again.

→ _Zhengting:_ You're dating him, how are you not mad? Also, you can tell him thanks... again.

→ _Euiwoong:_ He's immature, but he's not unfaithful. Also, he said you're welcome.

→ _Hyeongseop:_ Why is everything that you say about me to others always a backhanded compliment?

→ _Seunghyuk:_ You guys are such an old bickering couple. Anyways, you look great, Jung Jung. I need to borrow your shirt sometime for an interview, Hyeongseop keeps on forgetting it's his week to do laundry.

Zhengting laughs.

Justin glances over his shoulder, but unable to read the Hangul, he just shrugs.

“They say I look good,” Zhengting says, glancing at himself in the mirror again.

“I'm glad,” Justin replies, looking at Zhengting with his hands interlaced and resting on the latter's shoulder, a giddy smile on his face.

The next day, Zhengting walks into Xuanyi’s classroom during her lunch break.

“Wow,” she comments, and whistles. “You're not going on a date after this, are you?”

Zhengting looks at his torso. “No,” he replies, when he glances back up.

“Well, this is a pretty significant divergence from what you normally wear,” Xuanyi notes. And then she sees the watch wrapped around his wrist and raises an eyebrow. “Sugar mama?” she asks. But when Zhengting smacks his hand into his face, she adds, “I'm joking, I'm joking,” through a fit of high-pitched giggling.

“Just gifts that I haven't really thought about wearing until now,” Zhengting gruffly says.

“Well, keep up the good work,” Xuanyi replies. And then, a silly smile spreads on her lips. “At this rate, you'll surpass me as the most desirable teacher among students.”

Zhengting scrunches his nose. “Gross,” he says, and Xuanyi breaks into another fit of giggles.

Later that day, when Justin walks in with Sicheng, he sees Zhengting and his eyes widen.

Zhengting meets his gaze and offers him a small smile.

The next second, Justin starts giggling, his hand brought up to cover his mouth as he looks away, Sicheng nudging him and asking what in the world he's laughing about.

Zhengting can't help but let his smile grow wider. And before he knows it, he's laughing too, his face turned away from the class as he leans against one of the lab tables.

* * *

“Didn’t think you’d actually wear it,” Justin says, as he shoves another spoonful of yogurt into his mouth.

Zhengting moves around in the background, looking for that one canister of loose leaf tea he’d put somewhere in either the kitchen or on the dining table. He doesn’t really even need to be there, because Victoria is home, her work schedule having calmed down temporarily. But at this point in his life, it’s just a habit to be up there -- or, down at his apartment, with Justin somewhere in the background because he’s bored most of the time and Zhengting gives him more freedom than Victoria.

“Well, you chose it for me,” Zhengting hums, “and besides, I got lots of compliments.”

“You said you were too nervous to wear the watch,” Justin replies.

“Hmm,” Zhengting murmurs, and he looks at his left wrist. “I think I just needed to get used to it.” And then when he finally finds the canister he’s looking for, having been hidden behind one of the drying cutting boards on the counter, he asks, “Do you want to choose my outfit for tomorrow too?”

Justin gets up onto his knees, his head poking over the top of the couch. “Can I?” he asks excitedly, the arm holding his spoon dangling down. Zhengting hopes he doesn’t accidentally drop it.

“Well, yeah, that’s why I offered,” Zhengting replies.

“Oh, yay!” Justin exclaims, turning around and sitting back down.   
Zhengting huffs, laughing at Justin’s reaction. _How cute_ , he thinks, with a silly smile on his face.


	7. 聆

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dON'T CRUCIFY ME PLEASE THE AUTHOR NOTES SHOULD'VE WARNED Y'ALL

**聆:**   _If you listen more and speak less, maybe you'll discover something new._

* * *

“You said… that whatever I want, I should tell you.”

Zhengting suddenly sits up, panting. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat and his shirt is suddenly too hot and sticky for his body. There's an odd fluttering in his stomach, as if he were extremely nervous and anxious right at that moment.

 _What the hell?_ he thinks. Looking next to him, Justin is still asleep, lightly snoring the night away.

Zhengting sighs, placing a hand over his racing heart in an attempt to calm it down. _That was odd_ , he thinks. He can't recall exactly what in the world he was dreaming about, only brief flashes of images as if he were looking through some kind of distorted glass.

He furrows his brow, sitting there as his breaths calm and he thinks. No, it wasn't a nightmare he had, even though his reaction was akin to one he'd have after seeing something scary. And well, from what he can remember, there wasn't exactly anything scary.

He remembers he'd been sitting somewhere. On a couch? On a bed? On a chair? He doesn't know. But it had to be a surface that was large enough to support two people. He remembers there was Justin, somewhere next to him or in front of him. He remembers feeling warm air run over his cheek, and then a whispered sentence in his ear.

But that's all he remembers. No timeline of how things happened, no exact replay of the scenario like a video.

He calls back onto his pillow with a soft _fwump,_ rubbing the sweat off of his forehead with a palm. And when he turns his head slightly, he notices that Justin had rolled close enough that the breaths he takes hit Zhengting on his cheek.

Well, that might be why he remembers feeling someone breathe on his face in his dream. But that doesn't exactly explain the words he heard, or who whispered them to him.

It might as well have been Justin, since he's the only one Zhengting recalls being there in his dream, but then again it's not like he can recall much about that dream in the first place.

He sighs, sitting up again and looking at Justin, debating if he should push the boy over. Every single time they share a bed, Justin ends up rolling over to Zhengting’s side. He doesn't exactly cling onto Zhengting, so the latter never minded it, but Zhengting is slowly getting annoyed that he's losing his space and that little by little, he's moving closer to the edge of his bed -- roll over, and he might smack his face on his nightstand.

Judging by the lump under the blankets, Justin is probably angled diagonally, Zhengting notes. That would make it hard for him to push the boy over without waking him up.

He falls back onto his pillow. He'll just talk to Justin in the morning.

* * *

“You’re up early.”

Zhengting looks over. He smiles. “Good morning,” he says. When Justin walks over while rubbing both of his eyes with his fists, he nearly runs into a chair and Zhengting instinctively reaches out a hand and winces.

“Don’t you not have classes until ten on Thursdays?” Justin asks.

Zhengting nods. “I just woke up before my alarm today.” It'd been a bit difficult for him to fall back asleep after being thrown awake from his dream -- the sweat on his back made it too hot to be under his blanket, but the cool air in his room hitting his damp skin made him shiver. Really, it was near impossible to find a balance, not to mention that his heart also refused to stop beating above its normal rate.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Justin murmurs.

Zhengting shrugs. “Just had a weird dream, that's all.”

“Oh,” Justin replies. “What was it about?”

Zhengting pauses. And then after a moment, he says, “Nothing.” It's best Justin not assume he might as well have been the cause of Zhengting's sleeplessness. “How about you?” he adds. “Slept well?”

“Perfect,” Justin replies, with a small smile.

“Really,” Zhengting states. He laughs the second after. _Wonderful_ , he thinks. If Justin ended up hogging all of his bed and still slept uncomfortably, then he wouldn't know what to say. “You know,” he begins, “I've been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“What?” Justin replies. He cracks a smile. “You're not angry that I had a good night's sleep and you didn't, right?” he asks, jokingly.

“Maybe a little bit,” Zhengting teases. But he shakes his head the second after. “You just kinda, like, roll over onto my side of the bed...a lot. And squish me to the edge.”

“Oh, man,” Justin murmurs, rubbing his face. “I'm sorry, if I fall asleep at your place in the future I'll just go sleep on the couch--”

Zhengting holds up a hand. He sighs. “That’s not what I'm saying,” he says. “Do you always sleep diagonally or splayed out?”

Justin shrugs. “I don't know,” he replies. “My bed is big, so I never notice. I guess I just take up whatever space is available.” And then he starts giggling, walking up to Zhengting and leaning down, placing his hands on Zhengting's shoulder as he looks at him. “If you don't want to be pushed to the edge, why don't you take up the extra space on the bed before me?”

Zhengting narrows his eyes. “Do I really need to compete with you for space on _my own_ bed?”

Justin has stopped laughing, but there's still slightly silly smile still on his lips. “Or you can just deal with having a little corner to yourself for the rest of the time,” he jokes.

Zhengting huffs. He flicks the boy on the forehead, before telling him to go brush his teeth and change or else he'll have to eat breakfast in the car.

* * *

“And why do you always insist on sleeping with me?”

Justin has cocooned himself into Zhengting's blanket, his face down on a pillow, the rest of his body gone and completely wrapped up. He lifts up his face just enough so that he can turn his head and stare at Zhengting.

“Also, why are you in bed already? It's not even nine yet,” Zhengting adds.

“I'm tired,” Justin murmurs. “And besides, it's empty up there.” He pouts. “Remember what I told you? I'm lonely.”

Zhengting scoffs. _Clingy_ , he thinks, but a small smile appears on his face the moment after. “At this rate,” he begins, “you might as well pack your things and move in with me.” He sits down in his chair, crossing his ankles and tapping on his desk with his fingers. “Victoria should also just hand me your adoption papers,” he jokes.

Justin rolls his eyes, his face flopping back down onto the pillow before he turns his head. “What are people going to say?” he asks. “When they find out my dad is six years older than I am?”

Zhengting shrugs. “They just never have to know,” he says. “We can always lie and say I'm your brother. Only the papers will know the truth.”

“You're just a bunch of things now, aren't you?” Justin replies. He smiles. “You're my mom's friend, you're my--” he pauses, and scrunches his nose. “Wow, I'm friends with my mom's friend. Gross.”

Zhengting scoffs.

“So you're my mom's friend, my friend, my babysitter, my neighbor, my teacher, and now--” Justin continues, “my dad and my brother. Great. So what do I call you now? 'Mr. Zhu’? ' _Da-ge_ ’? 'Dad’?” He starts giggling madly when Zhengting visibly cringes at the mention of the word “dad”.

“Okay, _dad,_ ” he says.

Zhengting can feel the blood rushing to his face. “Stop it,” he groans, slapping his hand over his face, but Justin continues laughing as he says, “Wow. I never thought I'd associate you with 'dad’.”

“ _Please_ ,” Zhengting pleads, “never say that again.” He lifts his hand off of his face and stares Justin right in the eye. “Or else I'm going to revoke your privilege of staying with me overnight.”

Justin instantly shuts up. Zhengting smiles, and he turns around to open his laptop.

“Sorry, dad,” Justin murmurs.

Zhengting glares at him. “I dare you to say that again,” he growls, his voice low.

Justin giggle. His smile calms a few moments after, and Zhengting turns back to his laptop.

He doesn't exactly expect Justin to murmur, “But thanks for taking care of me. Like a dad.”

“Oh,” Zhengting replies, “you're welcome.” He smiles. “I enjoy it, anyway.”

Justin un-cocoons himself and stands up, approaching Zhengting.

Zhengting doesn't expect it. He just watches Justin curiously.

And then Justin leans forward, his arms wrapping around Zhengting's neck, the side of his face resting atop the latter's head.

Zhengting returns his embrace. The boy's skin is warm from having been wrapped up in a blanket, his breaths calm and relaxed. His torso is thinner, and Zhengting can very easily link his hands together around Justin's back. For some reason, just the sensation of having someone smaller in his grasp just makes him pull Justin closer to him.

When they retract, Justin still stands there, his hands resting on the armrest of the chair. He looks at Zhengting with an expression that Zhengting can't exactly pinpoint, but clearly he's very relaxed, his eyes a little bit lidded; yet there's still a look in them that very obviously outlines the fact that he's alert.

And at that moment, when Justin stares at him with that unnamed expression, Zhengting just instinctively slides his hands over Justin's cheeks, pushing the hair back at the boy's temples. He pauses, because his conscious is peeking out from behind the corner, screaming, _What is happening?_ He gulps, because he doesn't know, but he recognizes the fluttering in his gut, the same one he experienced after waking from that dream -- as if he were deathly nervous or anxious, yet there is nothing at the moment to be nervous or anxious about.

He watches himself tuck the locks of Justin's hair behind his ears, fingers running lightly over the tops of his ears. He finds his hands returning to Justin's cheeks, his thumb running over the boy's skin, right beneath his eye, reveling in its evenness and brightness under the touch of his fingerpad -- the skin of someone who's young, who's naïve and innocent and pure. And at that moment, he thinks, _Beautiful._ He almost says it out loud, if not for the fact that the connection between his brain and his body is lacking at the moment.

Justin just lets him, lets him cup his cheeks softly in his palms, lets him guide his face a little bit closer, just a little bit closer, every time his heart beating just a little bit faster. He lets him look him up and down, lets his eyes wander from his mouth to his nose to his eyes. Lets him move his lips, just maybe a palm's length away from his own, as if he were whispering some kind of wish, but Justin can't hear.

He watches him tilt his face down a little, lifting up his own chin. He closes his eyes when there's the softest of kisses planted on his forehead, the owner of them gentle and careful and-- Justin looks up.

_Loving._

His heart shakes. He reaches up to cover the hands around his cheeks, his palms hot against the backs of Zhengting's hands. He slowly slots his fingers in the empty space between Zhengting's own.

Their hands fit together. They fit together, perfectly.

* * *

It is a new understanding that they've reached. Maybe a new chapter of a book, because their relationship simply builds upon things they already had.

Zhengting will pretend to fight Justin for space on his bed by squishing the boy up to the wall. But when he falls unconscious, Justin will just roll up to him, tuck his head down, forehead pressed against the very top of Zhengting's neck, and sleep the night away peacefully.

Zhengting subconsciously tries to coddle Justin more. When it's just the two of them, he’ll push back Justin's hair and clip the poinsettia there, before pulling back and inwardly admiring how beautiful both the flower and its wearer are. He'll indulge Justin in whatever the boy wants, whether it's to let him eat the rest of the cookie rolls in the tin or let him sidle to his side and watch him write passive-aggressive emails to his classmates while occasionally sticking a chip in his mouth or whatever happened to be there that day. Zhengting even lets Justin send him for rounds in the fitting room at the mall on the rare occasion they go shopping with Victoria, even though he can't help but feel overwhelmed and exasperated by the sheer amount of garments Justin can drape over his arms, but he secretly indulges in that vain side of himself where he looks at his reflection and admits that he looks absolutely fine. His ego positively skyrockets when Justin praises him, or more so praises himself, but Zhengting laughs and watches his friends blow up his social media.

Justin sometimes feels like he's sucking up too much of Zhengting's attention, like he's the whining child that a parent can't leave alone for a minute. It's the complete opposite of what he's usually like, but he thinks that maybe it just has to do with the fact that he's downright attached, clingy even. He never hurts emotionally, but maybe that's because he's just so numb to the feeling of hurt that he just doesn't know what it is anymore -- the only thing that actively suggests he's even struggling at all is that he can barely control his want with Zhengting.

It's the first time for him that somebody has let him feel like he holds a place in their life, that his actions and his words are able to change the course of a person's day. That he himself belongs with that person, and that they belong with him. It's such a foreign feeling to him, something warm and nice but at the same time excitingly buzzing, that he almost feels like he wants to abuse it and get the most out of it before it fades away.

But Zhengting says, repeatedly, that Justin is important to him. That he doesn't stick around the boy just because it's his responsibility.

A part of Justin worries Zhengting will one day go away. There's still a layer of sticky insecurity blanketing the boy's skin, and Zhengting can see it, but he is slowly helping him wash it away. Slowly helping him wash it away with his words, his smiles, his actions, his touches.

Justin never voices his insecurities. He was never one to do so. But Zhengting can tell there's something there, because he notices the way Justin clings onto him, like someone who doesn't know what being clingy is. As if this were his first time he were even given an opportunity to be clingy. As if he's subconsciously panicked the object of his fondness will one day leave his grasp.

Zhengting will never leave. At this point, he both doesn't want to and can't. He doesn't know the right words to say in order to reassure Justin of this, so he settles for expressing it slowly through other means.

Victoria even notices it. “You spoil him just like how his father did,” she notes, one day.

“How?” Zhengting asks, with a laugh. “I don't have money like he does. I can't take Justin on trips and buy him nice things.”

“Doesn't matter,” Victoria replies. “Firstly, I can see you want to. Secondly, you do whatever he wants you to do because you think it's all in good nature.” She shrugs. “At this point, I'm just glad you don't have a lot of money.”

“Rude,” Zhengting huffs.

Victoria smiles. “Because otherwise, my son would probably have no self-control.” She walks away, and Justin sits down next to him, wrapping an arm around Zhengting's elbow before turning on the TV.

* * *

Justin is never one to become restless or agitated while in class. If anything, he's mostly relaxed, but recently he's gotten a little bit anxious.

He shakes his foot madly while he stares up at the front of the classroom, where Zhengting is actively explaining the concept of the nitrogen cycle. Zhengting notices the movement too, and he almost gets distracted wondering why Justin is acting a little bit unusual.

Sicheng, brash as ever, kicks his friend in the ankle in order to get him to stop shaking.

As if just woken from a dream, Justin visibly jumps in his seat, the legs of his chair making a scraping noise against the tile floor. Almost all of the students turn to look at the source of the noise -- Zhengting himself almost stops talking and stares, his voice stuttering, but he powers through.

Justin looks absolutely shaken, his shoulders raised and his eyes wide. He bites his lip the next second and sighs, relaxing himself.

Zhengting feels worried for the rest of the day. The rest of the week and month, really, because Justin's behavior is just a little bit unusual, but nothing that warrants a serious complication. Zhengting wants to ask, but then the boy completely reverts back to his normal state outside the classroom, so what can he say?

Zhengting is wandering around the classroom one day, watching the kids write an essay to be submitted at the end of the period. Naturally, his eyes fall on Justin once every few or so minutes, and he's noticed that for the past several times he's looked at the boy, Justin has been stating straight ahead, unmoving besides occasionally running his thumb up and down the side of his pencil.

Zhengting walks over. He doesn't even approach Justin from an angle where the boy wouldn't be able to notice him, but Justin still jumps when Zhengting asks, “Are you okay?”

“O-Oh,” Justin begins, his eyes wide. “Yeah, I'm fine,” he hurriedly adds.

Zhengting smiles. “Then you should probably get back to work,” he suggests, and then glances down at the paper sitting on Justin's desk, “you have twenty-five minutes and four paragraphs left.”

Justin looks down at his paper before looking back up at Zhengting. He opens his mouth, as if he were about to say something else, but no sound comes out. He closes it after gaping like a fish for a few seconds.

Zhengting is about to walk away when he hears, quietly behind him, “Okay. I will do that.”

Later that night, Zhengting approaches Justin while the boy is lying in his bed, already having brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas.

Zhengting reaches out, pushing back Justin's hair on one side of his forehead, laying his palm flush against Justin's skin. Justin stares quizzically at him, one eye slightly squinted.

“You seemed a little distracted today,” Zhengting notes, softly, rubbing Justin's forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No,” Justin murmurs.

“Hmm,” Zhengting hums, retracting his hand, “you've been a little restless lately. Is there anything wrong?”

“No,” Justin replies, again.

“Are you sure?”

And then Justin meekly says, “Yes, you can stop worrying, so just go sleep.”

Zhengting raises an eyebrow at Justin's response. He's never heard him speak that way before, where his words are a little bit… demanding.

But if anything, Justin looks like he's trying to become one with his blanket at that moment.

Zhengting laughs softly, pulling down the edge of the blanket so he can see more of Justin's face than just his forehead.

“Okay, okay,” he says, gently, “I'll go leave now. Good night.”

Instinctively, he leans forward, and very lightly kisses Justin on his forehead, right above his right brow. “I'll see you in the morning,” he whispers, and Justin nods.

As he's about to turn away, Justin softly says, “I thought you'd ask me about that earlier.”

“Huh?” Zhengting replies.

“About me being a little weird,” Justin clarifies. The top if his blanket covers his mouth, so his words are muffled, just barely loud enough for Zhengting to hear. “Because you probably noticed earlier. Or, maybe you'd say something in class. Or to Ms. Wu.”

“Why would you think that?” Zhengting asks, surprised.

Justin turns away his face. Maybe it's just the odd lighting from the yellow of the lamp on his nightstand and the dullness of the rest of his room, but Zhengting thinks his cheeks are a little red -- no, more like a little orange.

“Well, you're my teacher,” Justin simply says.

Zhengting sighs. “Yeah,” he begins, crossing his arms. “I am. But for you, I'm more things than just that.” He smiles softly.

Justin nods at his words. He blinks slowly, one eye still slightly squinted.

“Whatever it is, just feel better,” Zhengting says. “What matters is not what I say, but how you're feeling.”

* * *

A week or so later, in preparation for the Lunar New Year, Zhengting's parents announce they're going to visit him.

“Have you spoken to your mother ever since that conversation we had over dinner?” Victoria asks, as she pours him another glass of _baijiu_ before refilling her own glass of wine. Zhengting gruffly thanks her. He likes wine, but needs some stronger alcohol at this moment.

“Yeah,” he replies. “She called me several times and over winter break about how she and my dad found some girl that they wanted me to meet.” He takes a sip of his _baijiu_ and sighs, hoping that the alcohol will calm the sense of dread in his gut quickly.

“You didn't say yes, did you?” Victoria asks.

“Of course not,” Zhengting replies. “Told her to stop meddling and that I didn't come back to China just so she could control my life.”

Victoria snorts. “Harsh,” she notes.

“Yeah, but what else could I do? At least she stopped calling me, which is what I wanted.”

Victoria rolls her eyes, tapping her finger on the side of her glass. “Are your parents going to stay here?” she asks.

“I told them to go rent a hotel,” Zhengting replies.

“And?” Victoria raises an eyebrow.

“They thought I was joking. Like, I was trying to be funny.”

Victoria laughs. “I'm sorry,” she says. “Poor you, looks like you'll have to sleep on your couch.”

Zhengting nods solemnly, closing his eyes for a moment. He wishes the alcohol in his glass wouldn't dissipate so fast. “You'll be here too, right? You'll stay with me? And make sure I don't die over the holiday?”

Victoria rolls her eyes. “I’m a workaholic, not a peasant,” she says, with a smile. And then when Zhengting looks at her, confused, she adds, “Of course, silly, I plan to take the Lunar New Year off.”

Zhengting grins. “Awesome,” he replies. “You'll get to suffer with me.”

Victoria casually takes a sip of her wine. “No,” she says, “I'll be avoiding your apartment at all costs. But if I hear screaming, I'll rescue you.”

Zhengting narrows his eyes. “Why do you assume the screaming is going to be from me?”

Victoria smiles, before leaning over and grabbing the nearly empty glass in Zhengting's hand. She refills it and gives it back to him without another word.

The next day, when Zhengting and Justin are eating dinner together, Justin asks, “Will I get to meet your mom?”

Zhengting sighs. “You were listening, weren't you?”

Justin nods.

“Thought you were sleeping.”

Justin shrugs. “Woke up to go to the bathroom, heard you and my mom talking so I just went over and listened.”

“You're too sneaky for your own good,” Zhengting says, sighing.

“So, will I get to meet her?” Justin asks again.

“Probably,” Zhengting murmurs. “But believe me, you don't want to.”

“Why?”

“She's probably going to attempt to baby you and then compare me to you and then backhandedly insult me while praising you and then the whole thing will be awkward.”

Justin smiles. “No, that sounds interesting,” he says. “I can't wait.”

Zhengting narrows his eyes.

“And I can't wait to see if there's any screaming too,” Justin adds, his smile growing wider.

Zhengting scrunches his nose and kicks Justin harshly in the shin.


	8. 迋

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again please do not crucify me the tags and a/n should've warned you

**迋:**   _Would you rather scare someone with the truth, or deceive and comfort?_

* * *

Zhengting receives no warning when his parents drop by the day before the Lunar New Year holiday officially starts.

It's a Thursday, he's just returned from the school with Justin and he's tapping on his computer while Justin quietly does his homework next to him.

He only hears car doors slamming before he glances out his window, exclaims, “Oh _shit_!” and begins to panic, waving his arms around.

Justin is very confused as to why Zhengting is panicking until he looks out the window too.

And before they both know it, there's a knock at the door.

Zhengting glances at Justin before standing up.

“Stay calm,” Justin says.

Zhengting nods. He takes a deep breath before walking up to the door and opening it.

His mother just instantly walks in, lugging a small suitcase behind her. His father actually properly greets him with a hug. And as he expected, the first thing his mother does is fawn over how well Justin has grown. How handsome his face is, how elegant his figure is, how appealing his height is. _Gao-fu-shuai,_ she says. Zhengting just rolls his eyes. Can a sixteen year old be _fu_? Certainly, his mother has money, but Justin is one of those people that acts like money isn't even a thing that exists.

And then, his mother's eyes train on him.

“You're looking a bit thin,” she notes. “Are you not feeding yourself well? I'll cook this week. You've probably been living off of unhealthy things, and--”

Zhengting sighs. “Yeah, okay, whatever,” he murmurs. “Just, sit down and watch TV or something. I haven't reorganized my bedroom since I wasn't notified when you guys would get here--” he glares pointedly, “--so I'll go do that. Victoria should be home in a couple of hours or so.”

Justin runs into his bedroom twenty minutes later. “I can't,” he whines, “she asks too many questions.”

Zhengting chuckles. “What’d she ask?”

“My grades, my friends, my favorite things to do, and then she proceeded to _tell me stories of when I was a toddler_. I can't even remember that far back!” Justin exclaims. He latches onto Zhengting's wrist. “Please help me,” he pleads, his eyes wide. Zhengting almost wants to hug him and pet his head at that moment with the pitiful look Justin is giving him, but he restrains himself.

“This is partially your fault for wanting to meet her in the first place, you know,” he says, jokingly.

When Justin looks like he's getting even sadder, Zhengting sighs. “Okay, okay,” he says, “just give me a few minutes to move the rest of my books.”

It's tense, a little uncomfortable when Zhengting tries to balance the conversation. If anything, Justin is reacting almost the same way he had at Chengcheng's party, staying glued to Zhengting and mostly silent. He only relaxes at moments when Zhengting's father carries the conversation because and things are getting uneasy.

Zhengting's mother sees how Justin holds onto him and she smiles, noting how cute he is and that she's happy to see them interact that way before she trails off, this time beginning to tell a story about Zhengting and Justin together when they were little.

“He was a strong little boy, and I remember he once picked you up on his back and took you to the top of that old playground set in our community because you were too short to climb the steps yourself,” she recalls, with a laugh.

Justin raises an eyebrow and glances at Zhengting. Zhengting just shrugs in response.

At that moment, Zhengting hears the beeping of Victoria's car. He lifts his head, mentally thanking whatever divine being answered his prayers that Victoria would be home soon.

And as gracious of a host Victoria is, she's much better at dealing with Zhengting's mother than Zhengting herself. She seems almost unaffected by the woman's tenaciousness, still maintaining her poise and charisma even as she cooks dinner with Zhengting's mom butting her head in every other minute. Zhengting asks her how in the world she remains so calm, and Victoria replies that there's simply other things in her life that she needs to conserve her frustration for.

Later that night, as Zhengting's parents are assimilating themselves into their temporary bedroom, Zhengting's mother opens his closet and sees the section dedicated to his nice things. She pulls out a garment, admiring it, curious as to how her son suddenly grew a fashion sense before putting it back.

And then her son walks in to grab his laptop charger off of his desk when she notices the silver glinting on his wrist.

“Zhengting-ah, is that new?” she asks, walking up to him. Her eyes widen when she steps closer. “This looks expensive,” she notes. And then she looks up at him and stares. “Are you spending your money on frivolous things like--”

Zhengting sighs. “No,” he interrupts. “They're gifts.”

“Who would buy you such expensive gifts?” his mother exclaims incredulously. She narrows her eyes. “There's not some woman that you're--”

“God no,” Zhengting quickly replies, holding up a hand. He regrets walking in to get his charger. “It's just Victoria, she had some overstock from one of the brands her company works with.”

“Huh,” his mother replies. She stands there, staring for a moment before walking away.

Zhengting sighs. It's going to be one long week.

* * *

The next day, on New Year’s Eve, all of them run around putting up decorations.

Or rather, everybody but Zhengting’s parents help because his mother complains that since she made a fair amount of the paper cut-outs and lanterns herself, she should get to rest, and his father says that he’ll just be the one that cheers the rest of them on while he drinks his tea and naps.

“These are all so pretty,” Justin murmurs, holding up a red paper cut-out in his hands. “Your mother made these?”

Zhengting nods.

“That’s so intricate,” Justin notes, holding it up against the window in the kitchen. “You can see the birds and flowers and everything so clearly.”

Zhengting smiles. “She’s not a seamstress for nothing,” he says. “Her hands are quite nimble, especially for someone who’s older.”

“This is like something you’d buy at a store,” Justin murmurs, as Zhengting cuts a piece of tape off of the roll in his hand.

“Victoria never made these with you as a kid?” Zhengting asks nonchalantly.

Justin shakes his head. “Never really had time,” he replies. “She was always so tired, so we bought them.”

“Huh,” Zhengting murmurs. He and Justin continue walking around the apartment, putting up cut-outs. When they start on the kitchen window in Victoria’s apartment, Justin holds up the next cut-out in his hand.

“Woah,” he says. “This one’s cool.”

Although still rather diamond-shaped, its corners are rounded, and the places where the red had been cut out are strategically placed so that the paper appeared to contain a large spiral or whirlpool. The very middle of the piece is solid, but oddly-shaped bits of paper had been cut out around it so that the solid part formed the figure of a man.

Zhengting agrees. “Did they teach you about that in school?”

Justin looks over. “You mean the story about the man?”

Zhengting nods.

Justin hums. “Of course, that’s one of the first stories you’re told as a kid,” he replies, smiling. “How _Pangu_ broke out of the egg of the universe and created the Earth by holding up the heavens so they separated. But then he ended up dying because the stress of separating the worlds was too much for him.”

“Do you know anything about the other legends on these cut-outs?” Zhengting asks.

“Not really,” Justin replies. “My mom hardly talks about the meaning behind the decorations, just that we should put them up because it's tradition, it brings good luck, and it's supposed to also bring about good change in the new year.” He holds up the cut-out as Zhengting tapes it. “Do you know about the other legends?”

“Forgot most of them,” Zhengting laughs, “this is my first Lunar New Year back in China and it's my first time putting up these decorations in so long.”

“What'd you do at this time of the year while you were in Korea?” Justin asks.

“Well, my friends and I would go and fill up a cart with snacks at the grocery store,” Zhengting begins. “And buy several bottles of soju. We'd go into the city to see the fireworks and parades and stuff on New Year's day, but the rest of the time we'd stay home and eat and drink and call it a week.”

“That's boring,” Justin laughs. He adds, “But then again, it's not like I do anything exciting either.”

“Guess this is a change for both of us then,” Zhengting replies, smoothing out the cut-out against the window. “You'll get to see the sheer audacity of my family, and I get to put up decorations. It's a great trade.”

Justin rolls his eyes as he walks off. “Maybe,” he murmurs. “I'm just glad I have people to spend time with this year.” He glances over when Zhengting catches up with him. “Well, maybe not so much that many more people. But it's not just me and my mom anymore. Watching the Spring Festival Gala with only her is boring.”

“Really,” Zhengting states.

Justin nods. “A few years ago, when they invited Psy, she started singing along.”

Zhengting raises his eyebrows. “You don’t mean…” he begins.

Justin giggles. “Yes, I mean she started singing _Champion_ , Zhengting. _Champion_ of all songs, simply because Psy was there and she thinks he’s funny.”

Now Zhengting winces, because when he imagines Victoria singing and dancing along to something as… out-there as Champion, he’s not sure whether to feel bad for himself or laugh. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Justin just shakes his head. “You don’t have to be,” he murmurs. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You won’t sing any songs that’re on the Gala. Especially Unforgettable Night.”

Zhengting scoffs. “Don’t worry,” he replies, “Chengcheng already ruined that song for me.”

And then Justin giggles, slinking up to Zhengting, before sticking his face right up to next to his cheek.

Zhengting feels Justin’s breath on his ear, and he stills, furrowing his brows as he stares at the boy from the corner of his eye.

Justin begins to whisper-sing. “ _Together, we pray for the--_ ”

Zhengting flicks him on the face when he realizes what he’s singing.

* * *

Things go smoothly -- or, at least as smoothly as they can be with Zhengting’s parents staying at his place. On the night before New Year’s, he helped Victoria cook dinner for the whole family. Justin had followed them, trailing either adult around until Victoria exasperatedly asked him why in the world he’s there.

Zhengting nearly laughed when Justin told her that he wanted to help, because he knew that the boy simply wanted to avoid any more questioning from Zhengting’s mother. So, partially because he felt sorry for the kid, and partially because he just simply wanted to, he gave Justin a knife and a cutting board and told him to wash his hands and slice the mushrooms.

And then later, as Victoria had been pouring the mushrooms into a pot full of boiling water, she shook her head and said, “Some of these are cut too thickly. They won’t be able to soak in the flavor well.”

Zhengting had jokingly scolded Justin for cutting the mushrooms too thickly, but the boy gave him the excuse that he’d never done anything in the kitchen besides use the microwave. Zhengting had sighed, watching him wander off, and thought to himself, _This kid is so spoiled_. And then, he laughed at himself, because he realized he’s partially at fault there.

After dinner, they cleared the table and Victoria brought out her chip set and mahjong blocks. Zhengting attempted to teach Justin how to play, but the boy couldn’t (or refused?) to comprehend past the distinction between the east, west, north, and south wind blocks. He expected Justin to just book it to his room, but for some odd reason, he didn’t. He rested his elbows on the top of Zhengting’s chair, playing some game on his phone or scrolling through social media, occasionally holding the screen in front of Zhengting’s face when he found something interesting.

And then an hour into the game, Victoria had sighed, looked up at Zhengting, and told him, “I can tell you’re struggling.”

He replied, “Struggling with what?”

“You’re being positively crushed,” she stated. And then Zhengting winced, because it was true.

The next second, Victoria waved her hand at him, as if trying to brush him away. “If you don’t want to anymore, stop keeping on your facade of being an experienced and wise individual and just go entertain Minghao,” she said, and Justin had looked up.

Zhengting had glared at her. “Are you suggesting that I’m not smart enough to play this game?”

Victoria shook her head. “No, I’m suggesting that you’re the youngest one at this table by twelve years, you look like you’re in pain while playing, and you’re only playing in the first place because everyone’s gathered around here.”

His dad had laughed, and said, “It’s true -- where did you learn to play? I never remember teaching you.”

Zhengting had grumbled, “Seunghyuk taught me,” before he pushed back his chair and walked away.

He and Justin just tapped on their phones while sitting on the couch until Seunghyuk sent a photo of himself toasting Hyeongseop with a full bottle of soju to Zhengting and asked how his Lunar New Year’s Eve was going.

 _Fine_ , Zhengting had written, before taking a photo of himself angled in a way that his head and eyes were visible at the bottom of the screen, and one could see, right over the top of the couch, the table with his parents and Victoria playing mahjong in the background. _I got kicked out, and you did me a disservice by teaching me how to play shittily,_ he added.

Seunghyuk’s only response had been a photo of him taking a swig out of the bottle of soju.

Zhengting, having felt a bit sad afterwards, turned on the TV and began to watch whatever sitcom was airing before the Spring Festival Gala would start.

Justin, who had been sitting with his back leaning against Zhengting’s shoulder, glanced at the TV screen, and began to laugh. He didn’t say anything when Zhengting prodded as to why he was laughing, but Zhengting knew the boy was probably inwardly mocking his sadness.

And then when the Gala started, Zhengting called over Victoria and his parents. They all sat around the TV, Zhengting’s parents on the smaller loveseat while Victoria, Justin, and Zhengting occupied the larger couch. This year, the show hired yet another girl to spin in the corner for the whole three-and-something hours and the costumes for the complimentary acrobatics performance had gotten even fancier, the two performers being completely covered from head to toe in dangling jewels.

Zhengting, despite his best efforts to stay awake, ends up nodding off somewhere near the last quarter of the Gala. He doesn’t know exactly when he wakes up -- actually, he doesn’t even know if he really does wake up, because when he supposedly does, he kind of feels like he’s stuck in a dream.

He wakes up with the feeling of a weight against his head. When he opens his eyes, the corners of his vision are blurred, and there’s vague noise in the background that sounds like people talking. He goes to close his eyes again, shifting his position so that his face is now buried against whatever he’s leaning on. It smells familiar, the feeling of it soft against his lips and cheek.

But that thing he’s leaning against shifts, and he feels the weight that had been on his head lift off.

“Hey,” he hears someone whisper.

And then he slowly opens his eyes again, tilting his chin up to look at the source of the sound.

 _Oh_ , he realizes. The thing he’s leaning against is Justin.

Justin has his head turned, looking down at Zhengting, whose cheek is against his shoulder. He smiles. “Happy Lunar New Year,” he says, softly.

“Huh?” Zhengting murmurs, groggily. The corners of his vision are still blurry, as if he’s seeing everything through a pair of goggles, and there’s still a vague humming of noise in the background that he’s not sure if it’s actual noise or just noise in his head.

“It’s past midnight,” Justin replies. “Both you and I fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, blinking slowly. It’s taking him a few seconds to process Justin’s words. After a few seconds, he asks, “What’s happening?”

Justin lifts his head for just a moment, glancing somewhere Zhengting can’t see. “They’re now all drinking wine around the dining table,” he notes. He looks back down at Zhengting. “You look sleepy,” he adds.

“Yeah,” Zhengting hums. He lets out a small sigh, still blinking slowly because he’s not sure if he wants to go back to sleep or if he’s actually still sleeping.

Justin stares at him for a long moment. Zhengting can only look drowsily up at him.

The boy purses his lips, as if he were thinking hard about something.

Zhengting watches him like he’s watching things happen through a TV. He just stares, completely numb of any sense of time and thought -- as if he were detached from his own body.

Justin looks at him with an expression that is unnameable, but there’s just glimpses of emotions that Zhengting can see, playing over the boy’s eyes like a movie reel. There’s a brief flitter of anticipation, a small spark of fear, a tiny glimmer of anxiousness, a trifling sparkle of worry. But the last emotion Zhengting notices, the last emotion that still lingers in Justin’s eyes even after most of it’s faded away, is fervor. Fervor with some sort of intense fixation. Intense fixation on whatever the boy is staring at.

Justin ducks his head. He slowly tilts his forehead down, just a little bit forward, and Zhengting’s eyes fall half-lidded in the dimness, the yellow lights from up above having been blocked by Justin’s face.

He feels their noses touch, the smallest of breaths that Justin takes grazing across his lips. That’s the only thing he notices. He can’t see, he can’t feel anything besides the fact that Justin is simply so breathtakingly close. Yes, _breathtaking_ , because Zhengting has suddenly lost the ability to breathe.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, his head spinning and his sense of everything but touch completely lost, he feels the softness of another person’s lips press against his own.

The touch, it’s gentle and fleeting, like a gust of wind against his face. The kiss, it was there only for one moment, gone the next. But he still feels the presence of Justin in front of him, the boy's breaths now just slightly erratic and wavering.

Justin takes several seconds to retract himself.

Zhengting closes his eyes.

Yup, he’s dreaming. He can’t not be.

* * *

He wakes up, still on Victoria’s couch, hair sticking to the side of his face, an imprint of the leather on his other cheek, and a blanket draped over him.

Zhengting sits up suddenly, opening his eyes as he does so. He sort of regrets that decision the moment later, because the corners of his eyes are a little bit tight and painful with dried sleep.

“The hell?” he murmurs groggily, rubbing his eyes and looking around at his surroundings.

There’s no noise, no movement. Seems like he’s the only one in the room. Oh, and he’s apparently still in Victoria’s home -- there’s no way he could be able to afford two black leather couches and a marbled glass coffee table.

Slowly, he rises from the couch and ambles over to where he knows Victoria’s room is. He knocks gently a couple of times before opening the door, sticking his head inside.

Victoria, sitting at her desk, turns around. She smiles when she sees him, and stands up, walking over.

“Thought you’d never wake up, sleepyhead,” she says, laughing, and pats down Zhengting’s hair.

Zhengting sighs. “What time is it?”

“About one in the afternoon,” Victoria replies, simply.

Zhengting’s eyes widen. “ _What_?” he replies. “Why in the world didn’t you wake me up?” And then he pauses, thinking. “Actually, how in the world did I end up here in the first place?” He scratches his head. “Uh, was I drunk or something?”

Victoria shakes her head and laughs. “You did drink, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t enough to get you intoxicated,” she notes. “At least, you seemed pretty sober for the rest of the night. Do you remember watching the Gala with the rest of us?”

Zhengting stares, blinking. “Uh,” he begins, “sort of. I remember part of it…” he trails off.

“Yeah, you and Minghao fell asleep for part of it,” Victoria says, shrugging. “Your parents and I just talked, had some more wine, and watched the fireworks after the Gala ended. Minghao woke up before you, though, and when it was time for your parents to leave he suggested that we just leave you on the couch.”

“...Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. He shakes his head. “Well then, I suppose, thank you for letting me stay over.”

Victoria smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s no problem, and it’s probably better you slept on my couch anyways,” she says, and then starts laughing. Zhengting looks at her oddly, but she quickly clarifies. “Minghao told me how your couch is too short, and that you end up with cramps in your neck and back in the morning.”

Zhengting awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and smiles sheepishly. Yes, he’s still a little sore back there.

“You should probably get back to your parents,” Victoria suggests. “I bet your mother isn’t too happy having you sleep in this late.”

Zhengting huffs. “Thanks,” he says, turning around. “If she’s still sleeping at this hour and complains about me, that’ll be fun,” he adds with a short laugh.

Victoria chuckles at his statement as she walks with him to his door. “Don’t be so sour,” she chides, teasingly, “remember? It’s bad luck for the new year.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Oh, I forgot,” he says, and then turns to look at Victoria. “Happy Lunar New Year, Vic.”

Victoria smiles up at him and leans forward, giving him a hug. “Happy Lunar New Year,” she replies. “Let’s hope this new year will be just as good, if not even better, than the previous one.”

Zhengting nods, returning her embrace. “I hope,” he murmurs.

* * *

In the evening, when they’re all waiting until it’s time to head out to the inner part of the city for that night’s spectacles, Zhengting finds Justin in his room. He poke his head around the door, seeing the boy laying on his stomach atop his bed. When Justin lifts his head and sees Zhengting, he smiles.

Zhengting walks over, sitting down next to Justin with his hand behind his back. When he pulls out his hand, Justin just sighs and rolls over.

“What?” Zhengting asks, an exasperated look on his face. “Take it.”

“What am I, eight?” Justin replies and laughs.

Zhengting just rolls his eyes. “No, but by law you’re still a kid, so I have a right to give you this. Take it.” He drops the red envelope on top of Justin’s stomach.

Justin lifts it up and stares at it for a moment before sitting up and holding it out. “I don’t need your money,” he says. The words he use would generally sound a bit hostile, but he says it in a tone that is genuine and carefree.

Zhengting sighs. “It’s tradition,” he replies, scratching the back of his head. “Just take it, Justin.”

Justin simply shakes his head. “And besides,” he adds, with a teasing smile, “you should keep this. My family has more money than yours does anyways.”

And then when Zhengting looks truly offended, he giggles, leaning forward and uncurling one of Zhengting’s fists resting on his knee before placing the envelope in his open palm. “Just kidding,” he says, sweetly. “But I’m not kidding when I said I really don’t need anything from you, Zhengting.”

Zhengting just sighs. He doesn’t relent, standing up and sliding the envelope onto Justin’s nightstand. “Just do something with it,” he replies, and then with a smile, he adds, “I already set aside the money for you some time ago, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

Later, when the sun has already disappeared and the sky is an almost-black blue, all five of them walk down the street towards the inner part of the city. There’s already small fireworks being thrown in the air up above them, and Justin walks with his head up, nearly running into a lamp post.

Zhengting grabs him by his elbow before he does so, pulling the boy closer to him. “Why are you so fascinated?” he asks. “Those are the small ones, you’ll get to see even bigger and fancier ones later.”

Justin glances at him, shrugging. “I’ve never seen fireworks this close,” he murmurs.

Zhengting raises his eyebrows. “Really?” he asks. “Seriously?”

Justin nods. “My mom and I never went outside for the Lunar New Year, we just stayed home. If I saw fireworks, they were from my window.”

Victoria, right at that moment, turns her head and glances behind her at Zhengting. “If you’re about to blame me,” she begins, a flat expression on her face, “remember that this time of the year is basically one of the only two parts of the year that I can stay home with my son.”

Zhengting closes his mouth. He smiles the second after. “I understand,” he says.

Victoria sighs, and looks up at the sky above her. There’s red sparks spraying down, having just fallen from a firework. “It’s my first time seeing these up close in such a long time,” she murmurs. “I forgot how vibrant they are. Aren’t they, Minghao?”

Justin nods, his head still raised up to the sky. Zhengting just laughs softly, and for the rest of the time they walk, one of his hands is kept on Justin’s elbow, guiding the boy as he stares up at the sparks above him.

And then an hour later, the two of them are sitting on a bench on the sidewalk, people crowded around them. Victoria rests her palms on the top of the bench, looking over their heads at the street in front of them, Zhengting’s mother sitting on the other side of Justin and his father stands right behind her.

They’re near the corner of the road. The road changes direction in front of a storefront with lanterns hanging from its two lamps next to the door. Red and gold is draped everywhere up and down the street, whether it’s in the form of more lanterns, streamers, paper cut-outs, couplets, or art depicting the history and beauty of China. The odd piece out of the scene is a red envelope dangling from a ribbon in front of the store’s door.

Zhengting leans down and looks expectantly down the street. One moment he hears the clanging sounds of cymbals, the next the drawn-out vibrations of an _erhu_ , and later even the fluttering of a _hengdi_.

There’s floats that pass by, all decorated extravagantly in red and gold with sparks of other color. There’s ones promoting businesses, ones run by the local government, even ones that Zhengting’s not sure about, such as the one with a woman standing and singing with three background dancers behind her.

Justin is completely silent the whole time. Starstruck, Zhengting thinks. The boy has never even come close to such ornamentation in his entire life. Zhengting sometimes glances over and looks at him, and he can’t help but smile.

After the floats pass and round the corner, the lion dancers come down the street. There’s lions of every color, from yellow to red to green to orange and more -- their bright tassels dangle and move along with the music, some of them dripping glitter in their wake. The dancers’ feet are nimble, imitating the movements of a lion well, yet still maintaining the fluidity of a work of art.

And after a procession of several lions, a larger, longer, and much more embellished lion comes down the street. He’s gold, with a bright red mouth and tongue, his eyes a vibrant green that seemingly glows with the orange-y light from the lanterns hung all around them. All the people on the sidewalk follow him, watching his movements intently.

The lion approaches the envelope hung on the door of the store at the end of the road. With one swift and fluid lunge, he grabs the envelope in his enormous jaw and begins to chew. After a few seconds, he spits out the remnants of the envelope, all red and gold and white and pretty as they flutter to the ground, before he turns around and prances off in another direction. Everyone claps and cheers as he goes, shaking his body with an exuberant pride, his head held high and steps bouncing.

Zhengting thinks the lion dances are the best part of the celebration. He tells Justin how pretty he thinks the lions are and how intricate the dancers’ steps must be. The boy nods and agrees, but clearly he’s not as impressed as Zhengting is, although he is still extremely fascinated.

The gem of the night, for him, as Zhengting expected, is the fireworks.

It’s like watching stars chase and fall against the backdrop of the sky, Zhengting thinks. Booms sound around them, almost vibrating the cement beneath their feet, loud and resounding and sharp like a rain of gunfire. This year’s fireworks are even more extravagant, painting images across the sky as if an artist swept a brush with ink made of glowing lights of every color across a dark canvas.

Justin seems completely unaffected by the deafening noise. He’s rather relaxed, Zhengting notices. Maybe after ten minutes or so of sparks flying across the sky, he sighs, leaning his head over onto Zhengting’s shoulder.

Zhengting glances over, tilting his head down to look at Justin.

The boy pays him no heed, his face still angled up above him, his eyes wide and wandering and following the colors above him, the gleam in them filled with an ebullient fascination -- an ebullient wonder, an ebullient amazement.

Zhengting is awestruck too at that moment, but not by the fireworks.

When he looks directly at Justin’s eyes, he sees the fireworks in them. He sees the colors dancing across the dark brown, almost black of the boy’s pupils, as if his eyes were the sky and the canvas and the painter is simultaneously running his brush across them as well. They shine even despite the darkness of the night -- bright, vivid, and lively. Every color of the rainbow, written in one set of eyes like their owner is the one that holds their beauty in his palm.

Zhengting is stuck. Entranced. Captivated. Hypnotized. _Beautiful_ , he thinks.

He slowly turns his head back up towards the sky after several long moments, and smiles.

Over on the other end of the bench, Zhengting’s mother turns her head and looks at Victoria standing behind her. She smiles, nodding her head at Zhengting and Justin.

“They seem quite close, don’t they?” she asks, softly.

Victoria can hardly hear her over the booming, and she has to lean her ear closer. “They are,” she replies, with an equal smile, and sighs. “I’m so grateful. I was so worried about Minghao.”

Zhengting’s mother chuckles. “I can see,” she says, and then places a hand gently on top of Victoria’s. “Your son is a very nice boy.”

Victoria laughs. “Thank you,” she replies, grinning, but then her smile softens. “Your’s is too,” she murmurs, glancing over at Zhengting briefly. “He’s done much more for me and my family than I could ever have hoped for.” And then she looks Zhengting’s mother in the eye and says, “Minghao wouldn’t have become attached to him if he weren’t someone truly kind and caring.” She sighs, almost wistfully so, and adds, “I no longer have to worry about my son’s well-being. It’s like a burden has been finally lifted off of my chest.”

Zhengting’s mother’s eyes soften at Victoria’s words. “I’m glad Zhengting has been able to do that for you,” she murmurs. And then she looks at the two young men, the expression on her face content, sincere, motherly. “They will be great friends, won’t they?”

Victoria hums. “I kind of feel like they already are,” she replies, with a small laugh.

Zhengting’s mother laughs too, her voice light and warm. “That is true,” she agrees.

* * *

The rest of the week passes by, mostly uneventfully. They visit one if the shrines set up in town and pray. Justin asks Zhengting what he should pray for, and Zhengting just laughed and told him that he should pray for anything in the world.

“What do you want?” Zhengting had asked.

Justin looked at him carefully for a moment, before he turned away said, “I don’t know.”

Victoria, hearing her son’s response, laughed as she looked at him, before saying, “You could always just ask for good luck and the wellness of the people that you care about.”

Zhengting prayed for a successful end to his school year and luck for his parents and Victoria and Justin. He’s satisfied with his wish, because he feels like that's all he wants at the moment.

His parents leave the day before the Lunar New Year break ends, and his mother hands him a new tupperware set as a half-Christmas and half-Lunar New Year gift. He both appreciates it and not, because the glassware is nice and sturdy, but also because his mother makes her gift an excuse to cook enough food to last Zhengting for two or three weeks and then promptly stuff it in the tupperware and shove it in the refrigerator because she presumes her son has been living off of ramen and microwavable porridge.

Justin watches the whole ordeal with a smile on his face. He laughs when Zhengting’s mother shoves him out of his kitchen because she asked him to help her, only to complain that he’s doing everything wrong and that he’s essentially useless.

Zhengting walks over to where Justin is watching, sitting on his knees as he hangs over the top of the couch. With a large sigh, Zhengting hangs his head, resting his elbows on the couch, and Justin reaches out to run his fingers through Zhengting’s hair.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Justin says, with a small laugh, “at least for the next couple of weeks you’ll no longer need to cook for both of us.”

Zhengting just sighs again. “That depends if you would like to eat _mapo tofu_ for a straight week.”

Justin scrunches his nose, and Zhengting laughs at his reaction. _Cute_ , he thinks.

And then for the week after, everything goes back to normal. Until Victoria visits him on a Monday night, when it’s nearing midnight.

“Why are you here so late?” he asks, when he opens the door.

“Oh, shush,” she replies, waving her hand. “This is basically one of the only times I could find you without Minghao somewhere in the same vicinity. He spends basically almost all of his free time with you.”

Zhengting shrugs. “I suppose,” he murmurs. “Anyways, if it’s about him, and you’re coming to me at this hour, it must be important?”

Victoria nods. She sidesteps him, letting herself inside the apartment. Zhengting just sighs, laughs sheepishly, and closes the door behind him.

“Minghao is turning seventeen in two weeks,” Victoria begins, quietly, placing her hands on top of the couch and slowly swivelling her head back and forth across her field of vision, before turning to look at Zhengting.

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. He would speak happily--after all, it’s Justin’s birthday soon--but the atmosphere Victoria creates with her words and the look on her face tell him something else.

“His father contacted me,” Victoria says. She looks away, her eyes cast off to the side, and closes them for a moment, sighing. “I didn’t tell anyone this, but while I was in Singapore over Christmas, I ran into him--”

Zhengting’s eyes widen. He immediately opens his mouth. “You didn’t--” he begins.

Victoria holds up a hand. “If you’re about to ask what I think you’re about to ask, _no_ ,” she says, with a haughty laugh. “He has a new girlfriend.” And then she crosses her arms, fully turning her body to face Zhengting. “Or should I say, _fiancee_.” She snorts, as if the idea were entirely baffling. “They’re going to get married this spring, and…”

“And?” Zhengting asks, when Victoria still hasn’t continued after a few seconds.

Victoria just closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

“He wants to see Minghao on his birthday. And ask him to live with him and his new wife.”

“Oh, _crap_ ,” Zhengting whispers, and he immediately clamps a hand over his mouth. “You aren’t going to--”

Victoria suddenly lifts up her head. Where previously she had a little bit of worry, anxiousness, and quiet brooding in her expression, it is now replaced with one of fire. The fire of a fiery spirit, a fiery anger, a fiery stubbornness; but really, all Zhengting can really see, can really focus on, is the burning desire of a mother to protect her son. “Oh _hell_ no, I won’t,” Victoria growls. “I’m not letting Minghao go. That man has nothing he can provide for him, has done nothing for him at all -- he’s not the one who raised him, who loved him, who gave everything they could to him, who spent the last ten something years--”

And then Victoria’s voice cracks, and she brings her hand up to her mouth. She turns her head away, her hair hiding her face, and at that moment Zhengting’s chest clenches with a sudden pang of panic and extreme anxiety.

“No,” he whispers, and in one stride he makes it to Victoria’s side, pulling her close to his chest in a tight embrace, one hand around her shoulders and the other running gently through her hair.

“Zhengting,” Victoria croaks, her voice hoarse, tired, and just slightly desperate, “I don’t want to lose him. I _can’t_ lose him.”

Zhengting has never in his life seen Victoria like this. Not even when she and her husband divorced and she was left a struggling single mother. At that moment, he feels the same way as Victoria -- suddenly exhausted and aching. The panic in his mind has upped itself as well, because it’s finally begun to hit him that even though Victoria might lose Justin, Zhengting himself would lose him as well. “You’re not--” he begins.

“You might think I’m a terrible mother,” she says, her voice muffled, “I leave my son at home by himself and dump him on another person.” She laughs sarcastically, the sound harsh and grating. “But I love him, Zhengting. He’s my son… he’s not only my flesh and blood, but he’s… the last family member I have left.”

And then she looks up at Zhengting, her eyes bright and wet. There’s tears that have escaped out of the corners of her eyes, creating thin and shiny trails on her cheeks in their wake. Her expression is absolutely unforgiving, despite the fact her voice shakes and her lips tremble. “I’m not selfish, am I?” she asks, her eyes wide. “Would he have a better life with an actual mother and an actual father and an actual fami--”

 _"No_ ,” Zhengting affirms, strictly. He closes his eyes for a moment, pressing his cheek against the top of Victoria’s head.

“I know you’re close to him,” Victoria whispers. “Tell me, Zhengting. Tell me, does he love me? Does he love me as much as I love him?”

Zhengting smiles, almost sorrowfully. “Yes, he does,” he replies, softly. “He loves you more than you can imagine, Victoria. Even despite the fact that you are not home a lot of the time.”

“Really,” Victoria murmurs, and then a short, wispy laugh tumbles out of her lips. “I’m glad,” she says, “thank you.” And then she pulls back a little bit, her palms pressed against Zhengting’s torso, and looks up at him.

Her expression has hardened. The fire in her had never died down, despite her tears.

“Next week,” she begins, her voice strong, “I’m going to Shanghai. I’m going to find that bastard and I’m going to tell him that I’m not going to give Minghao up. If he doesn’t relent, I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure he _never goes near my son again_. I don’t know how long it’ll take -- it might take me a day, it might take me a week, it might take me a month, but I’m going to do it.”

“Victoria…” Zhengting begins. “I want you to do this, but how are you going to manage your work?”

Victoria just laughs at his response. “Remember?” she says, a smile on her face, “My company has an office in Shanghai too. I’ll be okay.”

And then Zhengting leans down, kissing her on the forehead. “Okay,” he whispers, “okay, if you say so. If there’s anything I can do…” a short laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t want you to give up Justin as much as you do. Pursue your ex-husband, do whatever you need. I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

Victoria smiles up at him. She raises her hands, cupping them around his cheeks. “Minghao might dislike me for a period of time because I’m gone during his birthday,” she says, a little bit jokingly, but her words still maintain their serious tone. “Just make sure he’s okay. Make sure he’s happy and satisfied.”

Zhengting smiles and places his hands atop Victoria’s, taking them off of his cheeks and gripping them tightly. “Don’t worry,” he reassures. “Don’t worry about him, Victoria. He may have been a little sad and a little lonely in the past, but now… for a while now, he’s been the happiest I’ve seen him.”

Victoria looks off to the side for a brief moment, one last tear escaping her eye.

“Thank you,” she whispers, when she looks back up at Zhengting. “I love you. You're the one person, besides my son, that has never wronged me.”

Zhengting pulls Victoria back into his embrace. “I love you too,” he whispers, with a smile. Victoria stays in his arms for the next few minutes, letting the last remnants of her struggles slip out of her eyes, before she takes her leave.

And for some reason, Zhengting feels all of a sudden exhausted. He collapses on his couch and falls asleep without knowing it.


	9. 親

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since I wrote this in like... july or smthn november me is looking at it and laughing and asking what in the world I was writing
> 
> I also kind of laughed at my music references... TFBoys? byE (By2 and Jay are amazing though, I love them)

**親:** _Sometimes holding those dear to you closely can have a polarizing effect._

* * *

A couple days later, Zhengting is sitting at his desk, staring at his laptop as he mindlessly scrolls on Taobao. He hasn't gotten a chance to get out of his apartment without Justin, so it's a bit difficult to buy the kid a gift, and he figured he might as well order online.

Zhengting sees a sweatshirt and clicks on it. _Oh_ , he thinks. It might look good on Justin. But then, he shakes his head and remembers that the kid already has a very well-endowed wardrobe even though he wears a uniform to school.

He sighs after clicking around for a few more minutes, and then he decides to switch to another category.

“Hey,” he says.

Justin, who is laying on his stomach on Zhengting's bed while he reads, occasionally waving his feet back and forth and moving his head, the petals on the poinsettia clipped on his hair flopping up and down, looks up at Zhengting's voice.

“Which singers do you like?” Zhengting asks. He squints. “Uh, By2? Jay Chou? TFBoys? Or do you like Western music?”

Justin narrows his eyes. “Zhengting,” he begins, after a pause. “I can see the orange from the Taobao website over here. If this is about my birthday, don't buy me anything.”

Zhengting bites his lip. Well, so much for assuming Justin was distracted by his book. “...No,” he answers, after a moment. “What if I wanted to buy you something just because?”

Justin shakes his head. “There's nothing I want,” he says. “You're better off not buying me anything.”

Zhengting sighs. “Are you sure? I mean it's your birthday, and I'm offering to get you something. Are you absolutely sure there's nothing you want?”

Justin stares at him, a strange glint in his eye. For some reason, Zhengting all of a sudden feels nervous.

“Well, there is something that I think maybe I want,” Justin answers, quietly. He turns his head away. “But it's not something that you could probably get me.”

“Really?” Zhengting raises an eyebrow. “Tell me,” he says. “I can try.”

Justin shakes his head and bites his lip. “It's okay,” he says, softly, before looking back up at Zhengting. “Besides, I don't think it's something I could get even if I truly wanted it.”

Now Zhengting is just confused. What in the world could Justin mean?

“Uh,” he begins, “are you--”

Justin sighs. “Leave it,” he says.

Zhengting gulps. “Okay,” he murmurs.

* * *

Zhengting wakes up on a Saturday, exactly one week and a day before Justin's birthday. He’s been thrown awake by yet another unsettling dream, this time one where he vividly remembers trying to escape a haunted house in the daytime but being unable to see. There's sweat coating his head, neck, and back, causing his hair and clothes to stick uncomfortably to his skin.

Turning his head, he sees that Justin is still peacefully sleeping. He sighs, and closes his eyes, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his palm.

As he stares up at his ceiling, the feeling of sweat on his back reminds him of the first time he'd been woken up by a dream in this exact state. The one dream that was him, Justin, and a whisper in his ear.

 _Oh,_ Zhengting thinks. Speaking of Justin and dreams, he just vaguely remembers the one dream he had on the night before the Lunar New Year. He doesn't exactly remember how it went -- he doesn't even remember what he was doing that night. Yes, he fell asleep while watching the Gala and woke up on Victoria's couch the next morning.

But he knows he had a dream sometime while he was sleeping. He knows he was still on Victoria's couch, and he was leaning on Justin, but that's all.

Justin rolls over, now facing Zhengting.

And Zhengting turns his face to look at the boy.

He sees Justin's bangs all matted in a clump, sticking up from the boy's forehead. He sees the flutter of his eyelashes, dark against his skin. He sees the curve of his nose, the bridge relatively straight except for a small bump at the top. He sees the pink of his lips -- their shape is plump, Cupid's bow well-defined, the skin just a little bit textured.

Zhengting stares, because what he's just remembered throws him for a loop.

In his dream, he recalls that he was kissed. Just briefly, but a kiss nonetheless. The person who kissed him, their lips were gentle and hesitant. The scent and feeling of that person was soft and familiar.

There was Justin in the dream. Only Justin.

Zhengting buries his face in his blanket. _What the hell?_ he thinks, his face reddening. _Holy fuck_ , he adds, _it can't be_. Did he really have that kind of dream about _Justin_ of all people? Of the kid he's supposed to take care of, of the kid who he's supposed to dote on and play with, of the kid who once called him “dad” as a joke?

He takes a deep breath. _It was just a dream,_ he tells himself. _As long as nothing happens in real life, you will be fine._

* * *

That week is a little bit colder than usual, and whenever Zhengting and Justin do things together on the couch, whether it be watch TV, do homework, read, or play WoW, they both have blankets with them. Justin likes to share the larger one with Zhengting, squishing up against the latter's side with the excuse that Zhengting’s basically like an oven -- warm and radiates heat.

Zhengting rolls his eyes at what Justin says. The kid probably has a hard time with maintaining his body temperature because he's a little thin, Zhengting thinks. He lets Justin cuddle up at his side without protest. When he looks at the boy, sometimes flashes of his dream come back to him, and he suddenly dislikes himself a little more. It makes interactions with Justin just slightly odd, but it's not like the boy noticed Zhengting being awkward at all. Rather, if anything, he's pushing for more skinship, more companionship. He basically lives in Zhengting's apartment at this point, even going as far as bringing in his toothbrush and changes of his uniform.

Zhengting doesn't mind at all, he likes to indulge Justin. It makes him feel whole. At this point, whatever the kid wants, Zhengting complies. Mostly. He likes seeing Justin happy. Maybe this is what being a parent is like, Zhengting thinks. Very fulfilling.

He still doesn't know what to do for Justin's birthday when the day before rolls around. He knows he'll cook nicer meals, maybe take him someplace a little closer to the edge of the city, and possibly buy him something that they'll see when they go out.

That night, Justin notices Zhengting watching a Korean TV show on his laptop. He insists he wants to watch it too, so Zhengting finds Chinese subtitles. They crawl onto the bed, the laptop resting on Zhengting's thighs as they watch. Justin looks like he's about to nod off after three or so episodes, so Zhengting decides it's time to sleep.

After turning off his lamp, he feels a hand wrap around his wrist. “Can I?” he hears, in a whispered voice.

“Alright,” he responds, without thinking.

An arm wraps around his, its owner holding onto him firmly, but grip still relaxed. He feels Justin's cheek press against his shoulder, and he sighs, wishing the boy a good night.

Zhengting thinks about what he's going to do for Justin tomorrow before he goes to sleep. He wants the boy to truly enjoy his birthday, not only because he knows that in the past, Justin's birthdays haven't been celebrated particularly stellarly, but also because he just plainly wants the boy to feel loved. To be happy and satisfied, as Victoria had put it.

And in the morning, Zhengting wakes up warm. A little warmer on one side of his body, oddly enough. It feels like there's something besides his blanket draped over him as well.

Cracking open an eye, he notices Justin's face right next to his. Still asleep. And then he notices that the boy has let go of his arm in the middle of the night, but instead his grip--on both his upper and lower body, it seems--is attached to Zhengting as a whole.

Zhengting is angled a little bit to his left. Not quite lying on his side, not quite lying on his back. Justin is entirely on his side, one arm thrown lazily over Zhengting's torso while his leg is hooked over the latter's knees, effectively pinning him in place.

Zhengting sighs. Should he wake up Justin, or just try to move himself?

He settles on just trying to move himself, because it's best the boy continue to sleep. But when he shifts his position, the bed frame creaks and Justin slowly blinks open his eyes.

“Sorry, if I woke you,” Zhengting whispers, when the boy's eyes focus on him. And then when he gets no reply, he adds, “Happy birthday?”

A smile breaks across Justin's lips, and he giggles. “Thanks,” he says. He leans in closer, throwing his arm over Zhengting even further, the complete opposite of what Zhengting was trying to do. He's about to gently push Justin off when he feels the boy press himself closer and give Zhengting an awkward side-hug.

“I’m glad you're here with me,” Justin whispers in his ear.

Zhengting smiles, trying to conceal the slight shivers he’d gotten from Justin's breath on his ear. “Glad to be here with you,” he replies, and brings a hand up to ruffle the boy's hair.

He intends to roll over and sit up, telling Justin as he does so. But the boy's grip doesn't relent, and as Zhengting tries to roll onto his right side, Justin rolls too.

He rolls on top of Zhengting, effectively pushing Zhengting back onto his back.

A palm comes to rest on the center of Zhengting's chest. Justin has his weight awkwardly balanced on Zhengting's thighs, and when he realizes what's just happened, he freezes.

Zhengting is frozen too. Justin's eyes are wide. Caught off-guard. Zhengting is not sure if what he did was intentional or not.

“I--” Justin begins, and chokes. He gulps, the bobbing of his Adam's apple visible against his throat. Zhengting's eyes briefly flicker down, watching the movement, before his gaze goes back up to Justin's face.

He gulps too, because he's nervous. There's a crazy fluttering in his stomach and an insane tapping from his heart. He feels a little bit shaky and dizzy with the blood rushing through his veins, yet at the same time, he feels like he's in a dream. Where he's not sure what is going on, and he has no control of his body.

Justin gulps again. His eyes flit up and down for a moment, before he reclaims eye contact with Zhengting.

At that moment, time is suspended. It doesn't exist, or rather, it stretches from several seconds to several minutes. Zhengting can only stare, his heart thundering in his ears.

He doesn't even realize Justin is getting closer to him until the boy is already just right there, hardly a few centimeters away, the small breaths he takes billowing softly against Zhengting's own lips.

Justin is so close that Zhengting's can see the sleep at the corner of the boy's eyes. He can see his own reflection in those dark brown pupils. He can count every individual eyelash framing those wide and fascinated eyes.

His own eyes fall half-lidded, looking down at the pink of Justin's lips. Their noses touch, lightly, and Zhengting is hit with a wave of nostalgia.

It's just like his dream, he realizes. Where the only thing he notices, the only thing filling up all of his senses, is _Justin_. Soft and familiar.

Except, this time, there is not a pair of lips on his. Yet.

A hair’s breadth more, and there will be.

Just like in his dream, Justin pauses for a few long seconds.

Zhengting still can't move. He can't do anything. He can't do anything but scream at himself, _What is happening?_ He can't do anything but subconsciously think, _Beautiful_. He can't do anything but listen to the own dancing of his heart, powerful and strong as if it were drinking the drug of another person's vividity.

And then, right before he senses Justin just barely begin to lean in more, his phone rings.

Both of them jump, their heads turning.

“...Are you going to get that?” Justin asks, quietly, after a few more rings and Zhengting has not yet made any movement.

“O-Oh,” Zhengting stutters, “yeah.”

Justin rolls off to the side, and Zhengting feels odd without the weight of another person on him.

When he sees the name on the screen, he purses his lips.

It's Victoria.

* * *

Zhengting nearly trips as he clamors onto the chair in front of his desk, his hands shaking madly and heart still trying to race out of his chest. He gulps, picking up the call when he basically falls onto the chair, a palm rubbing his face.

Justin is still on the bed, back facing Zhengting. Unmoving.

Zhengting lets out a sigh, his hand briefly muffling the noise, before he says, “Hello?”

“I hope I didn't wake you up,” Victoria says, with a laugh. “You sound a little shaken.”

“N-No,” Zhengting stutters. “I’m alright.” _For the most part._ He stares at Justin's back. “What is it?”

“I found him,” Victoria says, slowly.

“What'd he say?”

“He said he still wants to see his son. Because he is his father.”

“And what about…?”

“He didn't mention anything about that. I was pretty stern when I told him exactly what I was thinking, so he should have gotten the message. But if he decides to heed that message, now that's debatable.”

“You're not going to let him, right?”

“No. I'd kill him before that happens.”

“Victoria…”

Justin suddenly turns his head. Zhengting purses his lips. The boy looks panicked for a moment, and Zhengting averts his gaze.

“I'm going to try to talk to his fiancee. Convince her to tell him that it's not a good idea. She has her own son -- he's hardly a toddler, but from a mother's viewpoint, she should understand.”

“Okay. Okay, that sounds good. Good luck.”

“How is Minghao? Tell him happy birthday for me.”

The hand holding the phone drops slightly as he looks at Justin, who returns his stare. Still unmoving. He looks nervous, almost, as if he were anticipating something terrible.

“...He's quite alright,” Zhengting murmurs. “I'll tell him that.”

“Thank you,” Victoria says. “Have a nice day, Zhengting.”

“You too.”

Zhengting drops his phone on the table. “Your mother wishes you a happy birthday,” he says, quietly.

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. “If you talk to her later, tell her thank you.”

Zhengting nods. He stands up suddenly. “I'm going to brush my teeth and cook now,” he says, “you're free to stay in bed if you...want.”

Justin nods slowly, holding onto a lump of blanket with his hands.

Zhengting turns around.

His hands still shake. His heart does too, but it's no longer because he's nervous.

* * *

Needless to say, breakfast is quiet. Although, they eat regularly. Zhengting is trying to, at least, in order to make it seem less… awkward.

“Do you want to go anywhere today?” he asks.

Justin shakes his head. “No,” he replies, softly.

“Okay,” Zhengting murmurs. He stares down at his porridge for several moments, before looking back up. “Are you sure?”

Justin nods. Now he’s staring at his porridge.

Zhengting sighs. What a way to start off the day. He still feels rather jumpy around Justin, simply because whenever he even _glances_ at the boy’s face it just all flashes back to him.

The image of Justin simply being so close to him. The feeling of his weight resting on the top’s of Zhengting’s thighs, the feeling of a warm palm being placed firmly on the center of Zhengting’s chest, the feeling of someone else’s soft breaths mingling with his own.

And then, his dream.

At this point, for some strange reason, he can recall it so vividly. He can remember how drowsy he was, how sleepy he felt, how warm one side of his body was because he was pressed up against another person. He can remember how it seemed like the lights all around him were pushed back, because there was Justin leaning over him. He can remember how hesitant the boy was, how long he took to close that final, hardly-there gap between them, how gentle and uncertain the kiss was, how fleeting the moment was, like the barest brush of a feather against his lips.

Zhengting hates himself a little bit at that moment. He wants to dunk his head in his porridge, because that seems like a good idea. His palms are sweaty, his face is hot, his legs are suddenly uncomfortable.

But worst of all, he doesn’t know what in the world to do.

Zhengting is an adult -- well, at least he physically is, and mentally likes to think of himself as one. He should be responsible. He should be mature. He should do the right thing.

Yet, he doesn’t want to. He wants to act like there’s simply nothing. That simply, nothing happened. There’s nothing on his mind. He’s not at all affected. It was just a memory, maybe a dream, that’s all. Avoid the situation, avoid thinking about it, and that will help him avoid confrontation.

But, he subconsciously knows it’s not nothing. There isn’t “nothing”. He can’t act like there’s “nothing” between them, because there is _something_ , Zhengting just isn’t sure what.

Zhengting is an adult. Justin is a kid.

He knows for sure that he feels a little bit disgusted, but that feeling doesn’t stem from the images, thoughts, and memories about Justin that pervade his mind. Rather, he feels disgusted because of the fact that he’s indulging himself with such… situations. He hates that he can’t stop thinking about it, and all he wants to do is hide and hope that his thoughts go away.

But he secretly knows they won’t, and he knows for sure that he needs to do something about it. Do something to clear his mind, because otherwise he’s not going to be able to handle himself if Justin walks up to him and insists they do something together.

So he takes a deep breath, and prepares himself.

Justin visibly jumps when he hears Zhengting take a breath, and Zhengting feels a little sorry for both the boy and himself.

“Was that intentional?” he asks, setting down his spoon and looking at Justin.

“...What?” Justin replies, his eyes wide.

“That… you know, that,” Zhengting says. He has trouble forming words -- it’s like his brain is deciding it doesn’t want to work.

Justin stares. He bites his lip, before whispering, “Oh god…”

And then without hesitation, he suddenly stands up, the legs of his chair making a sharp scraping noise against the tile, and before Zhengting realizes what’s happened, Justin has disappeared down the hallway. His feet make muffled noises against the carpet as he runs.

“Wait-- what?” Zhengting asks, to no one in particular, sitting there for a second, stupefied. He stands up the moment after, and chases after Justin.

He’s too far behind, however, and sees the door of his bedroom slam closed before he’s even anywhere near it.

Twisting the knob, Zhengting realizes it won’t move -- it’s locked. He sighs, leaning against the door. “Justin,” he says, trying his best to sound calm, “please open the door.”

Zhengting gets nothing in response but a strained noise.

“Please,” he pleads. “Please, I’m not angry at you -- I just want to… sort things out.” And when there’s no response, he adds, with an awkward laugh, “You can’t hide from me in my own room. Euiwoong taught me how to pick locks, so if you don’t let me in--”

“Zhengting,” Justin murmurs, his voice hardly audible, “please stop talking.”

“Oh,” Zhengting replies. Now he’s not sure how to proceed, but it seems this time around Justin is deciding to take the lead in the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” Justin whispers, and there’s a thud from the other side of the door, as if the boy had been leaning against it and suddenly dropped himself onto the floor.

“Why are you sorry?” Zhengting asks, with a short laugh. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I do,” Justin replies, and if anything, he sounds extremely regretful and guilty. “I’m sorry for scaring you, I’m sorry for making things awkward, I’m sorry for--”

“Stop,” Zhengting interrupts. “Like I told you, there’s nothing you have to be sorry about, and besides, I’m fine--” _for the most part_ , he inwardly adds, “--I just want to ask, was that intentional?”

There’s no reply for few long seconds, and Zhengting sighs, slumping against the door.

“...Maybe,” Justin murmurs.

“ _Maybe_?”

“I-I don’t k-know,” Justin croaks out, and then he makes some strained noise, halfway between a choke and a sob. Zhengting stays silent, waiting for him to clarify, but when there’s no reply, and instead the only thing he hears is yet another strange noise, this time something more akin to an actual sob, followed by a soft whimper, panic shoots through his mind.

He grabs the doorknob harshly and begins to twist. “Justin--” he pleads, a slight amount of desperation peeking through his voice, “--please, please, please open the door, I swear--” and then he slams his palm against the wood, pressing the full force of his body against it. From the sheer strength of his body and the desperation with which he twists the doorknob, he nearly falls forward when the thing actually turns and the door opens.

But he catches his balance at the very last minute, his breaths now shallow and fast-paced. And he stares, the air caught in his throat when he sees Justin sitting in front of him on the floor, his face turned away. The position he’s in, with his legs folded at the sides and his palms on the carpet in front of him, it’s quiet, nervous, scared, childish, submissive almost -- and Zhengting feels a weird twinge in his chest.

And then when he crouches down and takes a closer look at the boy’s face, he feels absolutely terrible.

He sits down and slowly reaches out a hand. “Shhh,” he whispers, when Justin makes another choked sob as his hand comes in contact with his cheek, thumb wiping away the single trail of tears that’ve already appeared. “Why are you crying?” he asks, softly, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around Justin’s torso, one hand pressed gently against the boy’s shoulder. And then he adds, with a small laugh, as he wipes away the wetness on the other side of Justin’s face, “Now that you’re crying, I feel like I might cry as well.”

Justin huffs, turning away even more.

“You shouldn’t be sad,” Zhengting whispers, “it’s your birthday. You should be happy. If me bothering you about this makes you unhappy, then I’ll just leave it alo--”

“I-I don’t know what to think,” Justin interrupts, suddenly, rubbing at an eye with the heel of his palm. “I don’t know what I’m thinking either.”

“Hmm?” Zhengting murmurs. “Tell me, then. Tell me, and I can help you sort out your thoughts.”

Justin stays silent for a few moments, staring at the floor in front of him, before he quietly begins to speak. His voice is hoarse, hardly a whisper. “You said that whatever I want, I should tell you.”

And then Zhengting is sent reeling. Those words… those words are so achingly familiar, he feels like he’s been physically slapped.

“I don’t know what I want,” Justin adds. “You asked me what I wanted for my birthday, and you remember what I told you?”

“You said that you had something that you maybe wanted, but you didn’t think that I could get it for you,” Zhengting replies.

Justin nods, slowly. “There was something, that at some moments I thought I wanted. And then at others, I thought I was being stupid and careless and delusional.”

“Huh?” Zhengting asks. What in the world could he mean? “What do you mean by that?”

And then Justin finally looks up at him.

Zhengting’s heartbeat throbs.

Justin’s eyes are visibly wet, shiny, his eyelashes clumped together from his tears. His temples, nose, and cheeks are bright red and pink, from his emotional state or embarrassment or surprise, Zhengting doesn’t know. His lips twitch, he sniffs, and when he speaks, his voice is choked.

“I think it was intentional,” he whispers. “I just woke up and I was so happy that there you were and I was warm and just seeing you-- I just-- I’ve never had that feeling before. Zhengting, all I wanted at that moment, was to kiss you.”

Zhengting gulps. _Dear god_ , he thinks, automatically freezing. He’s not sure how to take this.

Justin turns his face away, shaking his head. “I’m stupid,” he whispers, “I’m so stupid. I acted without thinking -- I was so scared, I was so nervous, I was asking myself what in the world am I doing, but it’s all too bad because _I acted anyways_.” And then with a trembling laugh, he adds, “Now everything’s all awkward and it’s all my own damn fault.”

“...Justin,” Zhengting begins, and sighs. “It’s okay, it’s fine. I just wanted to know what you were thinking. I don’t blame you, I’m not angry.” He heard the grating edge in Justin’s voice, how he seemed like he was planning on carrying all the anger from himself and Zhengting with his own lonely soul. Zhengting can’t help but blame himself a little bit at that moment, because he played a role in the reason why the boy is now reacting like this. “Please don’t be disappointed in yourself, please don’t blame yourself,” he adds. Justin’s words, they make sense to him now. He is hesitant, uncertain, confused. Just like how he was in Zhengting’s dream. And then, with a small laugh, Zhengting asks, “You’ve never felt like this before, have you?”

Justin shakes his head.

Zhengting smiles. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, into the boy’s hair, “it’s probably just a side effect from the fact that you and I have become really close, and I’m the first person like that in your life.”

Justin nods slowly.

“So don’t worry, alright?” Zhengting kisses the top of the boy’s head, rubbing circles against his back. “Just calm down. I’m glad you talked to me about this, so now we’ve got things sorted out.”

Justin nods again.

“It’s your birthday today. Whatever you want to do, just tell me, okay?”

Justin sighs, and he glances at Zhengting. “Thanks,” he murmurs, “thanks for helping me clear my mind.” He smiles, softly, and adds, “I feel much better now.”

Zhengting laughs. “I’m glad,” he replies.

Justin may no longer be confused about his thoughts, but that doesn’t mean that Zhengting isn’t.

* * *

Well, in some sense, Zhengting is less confused, but in another sense, he is more confused.

He just plainly can't stop thinking about his little encounter with Justin. It invades his thoughts at the worst times possible -- like when he's presenting a PowerPoint during class and he and Justin make eye contact and then all of a sudden Zhengting's heart starts racing. It comes back to him every time he's with Justin. Zhengting will look at the boy, who will promptly return his stare, and then he doesn't know where to put his gaze -- does he look at Justin's eyes, his lips, or his Adam's apple? And then when he sees that lump on Justin's throat bob up and down as he gulps, his mouth goes dry.

Zhengting slowly hates himself more and more. He constantly catches himself inwardly screaming, _No!_ He's had lectures with himself. _Stop,_ he says. _You need to stop_. These reactions he has, they were once mildly foreign to him, but as he's experiencing them more and more he's coming to realize what they are. He hasn't felt this kind of feeling for a long time -- two and something years it's been for him.

He's already past the stage of attraction. All that's left for him is to fall deeper into that endless, dark pit that they call infatuation. But he prays he can catch a ledge and climb out.

He screams at himself. He wishes he could scream out loud. He's an adult. He needs to be responsible. He needs to be stable. He needs to _do the right thing._

And the “right thing” does not include kissing Justin.

Zhengting would not normally hate himself for thinking this way. Love, he thinks, is an enjoyable emotion.

But it's not enjoyable when every time it appears, there's that pang of guilt and disgust he feels with himself and an inkling of panic because it's like an uphill battle to keep his brain in control of his body.

 _You are an adult,_ he reminds himself. Justin is so painfully young, so painfully naïve and innocent and pure and-- _beautiful_.

Zhengting inwardly screams at himself, his face instantly scrunching up into a grimace. Is this some new fetish he's developed? He thinks it all amounts to physical attraction, and that maybe he's just sexually frustrated after not getting any game for the past two years. But why, why does it have to be _Justin_ of all people? Yes, when he first saw the boy he admits that he did think he was physically attractive, but _not in that way_. There's obviously something wrong with his brain. He lets out a strained noise.

Justin, sitting next to him, looks over strangely. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Zhengting nods. “Yeah,” he murmurs, and Justin turns back to his homework.

There is one thing Zhengting is thankful about himself, however. He's thankful that he's retained at least enough control to make it seem like everything's gone back to normal. Or at least, nobody has questioned anything. He still allows Justin to sleep with him. Still allows his hugs, his cuddles, his giggles whenever Zhengting is struggling and Justin doesn't hesitate to tease him about it, but promptly offer his advice a second after.

But where once these actions were purely enjoyable for Zhengting -- _no,_ he thinks, just _obliviously_ enjoyable, they're now both disgustingly enjoyable and painful.

Disgusting, because Zhengting sometimes gets ideas and he wants to promptly throw himself into the sea afterwards. _What kind of a caretaker am I?_ he thinks. To some degree, he feels like he's always on the verge of doing something he's going to regret -- doing something that will hurt Justin, because Zhengting is an adult and he absolutely _cannot_ take advantage of someone who's basically a kid -- the one kid in the world that he never wants to harm.

And then everything is also painful, because he's fighting a battle that's quickly draining all of him.

His energy is draining, his self-control is draining, his sense of _right and wrong_ is draining.

He thought indulging Justin in small things like snacks and movies was all the fulfillment he wanted.

Now, Zhengting wants to both indulge himself and the boy. However, he can't do either without hurting the other.

Zhengting falls asleep every night tense. He's afraid of what his dreams might present him and how his brain might react when he's not quite in a fully awake state.

He's always been a person who's more focused on logic than emotion when it comes to dealing with conflicts. So far, that principle has been holding itself up. So far, Zhengting has not done anything out of the ordinary.

But that doesn't mean he's not visibly agitated on occasion. Xuanyi picks up on his restlessness easily.

One day, when he's just sitting at his table, watching the kids write, his eyes fall on Justin. How Justin looks focused on his paper, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth slightly agape as he writes.

Zhengting’s eye twitches, and he shakes his foot as he stares. Xuanyi walks up to him at the end of the class period and asks him if he is sick, because she noticed how uncharacteristically distracted he seemed.

Zhengting just brushes her question off with a sheepish laugh, his face slightly pink, and decides that his job is excruciatingly painful.

His attention is diverted, briefly so, when Victoria announces she's coming back to Tianjin the week after. She's talked to her ex-husband's fiancee, who was not too happy to see the ex-wife, but quickly understood when Victoria explained herself. Now, she said, the only thing she can do is wait and see what happens.

When Zhengting sees her at the airport, there's so much guilt in his chest. He feels like he's betrayed her, even though he technically hasn't. But the feeling is still there. Victoria comes to him looking worried and exhausted, and that only fuels his self-loathing. He tries to make it up to her by vowing to be the perfect friend for her. Comfort her, support her, never stray from her side.

Zhengting wakes up every day with this resolution on his mind, only for it to start cracking when Justin comes up to him, his hair neatly combed with the poinsettia clipped to one side of his bangs, and smiles, tilting his head ever-so-slightly.

Zhengting is going insane.


	10. 陷

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seriously whAt wAS i dOiNg

**陷:** _Traps are easy to create, but are they easy to disassemble?_

* * *

In the first week of March, Seunghyuk tells him that he was selected to study abroad in Beijing. That he'd be moving there after spring break in April.

Zhengting is absolutely overjoyed. He needs another friend he can confide in, face-to-face, that isn't Victoria or Justin.

Euiwoong and Hyeongseop are absolutely devastated, however.

“Who is going to help me fix the lightbulb now?” Euiwoong whines, when he and Seunghyuk are video chatting with Zhengting. “Hyeongseop-hyung is not very...helpful.”

Seunghyuk rolls his eyes. “You’re smart enough to teach him, Woong. He's not a rock.”

Euiwoong sighs. “Maybe not,” he replies, sullenly, “but he sure sits around like one. I just hope he doesn't go into grieving mode like he did when you left, Jung Jung.”

“He probably will,” Zhengting says. He laughs when Euiwoong sighs, flopping over onto his side.

“Anyways,” Seunghyuk begins, “would you like me to bring anything from Seoul for you?”

Zhengting is about to shake his head, but of course at the very last second he thinks of a certain someone. He bites his lip. _It's innocent enough, right?_ he thinks. And then he hurriedly shakes his head at himself, because of course it is, he's just at that point where now whenever any decision about Justin comes up he just ends up doubting all of his thoughts.

Seunghyuk and Euiwoong look at him oddly  contemplating his life. “...Are you okay?” Euiwoong asks.

Zhengting winces. “Yes,” he replies. “Just, uh, candy or whatever. Like, Jellyday and stuff.”

“Okay,” Seunghyuk says. “Anything specific?”

Zhengting shakes his head. At that moment, he hears the door opening and closing through his phone.

Both Seunghyuk and Euiwoong look up. “Ah, hyung is back from work,” Euiwoong notes. He gets up and disappears from the screen.

Seunghyuk instantly scrunches his nose. “Well, one of the big things why I'm a little excited about moving away is that I no longer have to see this.” He turns his phone, and there's Hyeongseop with his hands around Euiwoong's head, placing kisses on both his cheeks and his forehead.

“So gross, right?” Seunghyuk adds.

Zhengting just sheepishly laughs and agrees, what is he to say? Because at that moment, he vaguely remember doing something similar to Justin.

And now, he just wants to bury his face in a pillow and scream.

Seunghyuk sees how uncomfortable he looks, and exclaims, “I know, right?”

When Hyeongseop looks over and sees Zhengting on Seunghyuk's phone's screen, he instantly wanders over and squishes to Seunghyuk's side.

“He's going to leave meeee!” he cries.

Seunghyuk punches him lightly in the arm. “Stop complaining, Jung Jung knows,” he chides. “I'm not going to die, Seop,” he adds, when Hyeongseop looks like he's actually going to cry.

“But I'll be so lonely!” Hyeongseop whines, holding onto Seunghyuk with both his arms.

“Excuse me, I'm still here,” Euiwoong states, somewhere behind the camera. Zhengting can imagine how he looks now, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Hyeongseop sighs. “But you refuse to party with me, and Seunghyuk-hyung isn't a stick in the mud most of the time.”

Euiwoong growls, “I’m the designated sober friend, you idiot,” before Zhengting hears his feet against the carpet, presumably walking away.

Hyeongseop still comically whimpers, his head resting against Seunghyuk's arm. “I'm going to miss you,” he murmurs.

And then Seunghyuk looks directly at the camera, before pleading, “Please save me.”

Zhengting laughs. It looks like both he and Seunghyuk need to save each other.

* * *

The first unsettling dream Zhengting gets is a flashback on a Tuesday morning.

It's a flashback of the night he took Justin to Chengcheng's party, of the first night Justin fell asleep in his bed.

Well, not so much the night. More like the morning Zhengting was thrown awake, covered in sweat, heart racing, hands shaky. Things play in his dream exactly like they'd happened in real life, with Justin breathing on his face and Zhengting pushing him over onto his back.

Except this time, Zhengting's breath is very noticeably caught in his throat when he sees how the collar of Justin's shirt is pulled to the side, flush against his neck on one side and exposing part of his shoulder and collarbone on the other.

Zhengting notices how it juts out, shadows dark and soft and skin smooth and clear.

Except the most blatant difference between his dream and his memory this time around is that he watches his dream self actually reach out and run his thumb against the bone.

He watches himself revel at exactly how much it juts out, at how the skin covering it is so smooth and even and soft -- the skin of someone completely untainted by the world's harshness, of someone who is nothing but young and innocent and ignorant, even though Zhengting himself feels like he is no longer any of those things.

He watches himself then dip his thumb in the shadows -- they're still just as smooth and soft as the skin covering the bone.

And then he watches himself take a different direction. He watches his hand move along the uppermost shadow, slowly to the right until it rests in the dip at the center of Justin's clavicle. Just hardly centimeters below his Adam's apple.

Zhengting presses down lightly.

He's suddenly thrown awake by the beeping of the alarm on his phone.

* * *

Zhengting is lost for the rest of the day. Completely lost in his mind. It's the first time in several weeks since the incident that his control is finally cracking on the outside. That something is very obviously off about him.

He's so distracted that he forgets what the water cycle is as he's explaining the factors of a biome.

“One of the largest systems within an environment, as many of you know, manages the accumulation and the distribution of water… the… the… the system with evaporation and condensation as main ways of releasing and absorbing moisture to and from the earth.”

Boyang raises his hand.

“Yes, Boyang?”

“Don't you mean the water cycle, Mr. Zhu?”

Zhengting bites his lip and as he nods and replies, “Yes, that.” He decides he likes Boyang a little less.

Xuanyi walks up to him during the passing period right before the last class and insists he must really be sick.

Zhengting laughs sheepishly, brushing off her worry.

But she still doesn't relent, even going as far as to press her palm against his forehead.

“Zhengting,” she begins, worriedly, “please don't push yourself if you don't feel well. You can go home if you want, there's only one class left and I can manage myself.”

“No, I swear, Xuanyi, I'm fine,” he replies, laughing awkwardly, his face just slightly pink. _And besides,_ he silently adds, _I still need to drive Justin home._

Xuanyi crosses her arms, looking pointedly at him. “No, you're not,” she says. “Zhengting, you've been just a little bit off the past few weeks. I thought it just might be something temporary, but your behavior today is worrying me.” She sighs. “Please, take care of yourself. Go home. Take a break.  Nap or something. Clear your head.”

Zhengting sighs. _If only taking a nap would solve everything,_ he thinks.

“I'm truly concerned,” Xuanyi adds. And then with her voice lower, she says, “You may be my co-worker, and you may work under me, but you're my friend too.”

Zhengting inwardly winces. At that moment, he feels guilty for making Xuanyi worry. He knows he's been brushing off her concerns as if they didn't exist because they've been doing nothing but frustrating him, but him doing so also frustrated Xuanyi herself.

He puts on a reassuring smile. “I’m going to stay here and finish up this class,” he says, “but if it makes you feel better, I'll go take a nap when I get home.”

Xuanyi pauses for a second, before saying, “Fine.” She sighs. “Please don't overwork yourself,” she adds, as she walks back to her desk.

And as Zhengting is about to turn and go back to his table, he sees Justin staring at him out of the corner of his eye, standing just several meters away.

Zhengting doesn't know how long he's been there, or if he's close enough to have heard his conversation with Xuanyi. But Zhengting assumes he probably understands the essence of what's going on, because when their gazes meet, Justin looks surprised. He’s also a little bit worried, and just a little bit more hesitant. Hesitant about what, Zhengting doesn't know.

Zhengting just takes a deep breath and turns away.

He really doesn't need another person in general to be worrying about him, let alone the source of his inner turmoil.

* * *

In the evening, Justin asks if he’s alright.

“ _Yes_ ,” Zhengting replies, with more edge in his voice than he intends.

When Justin just stares at him for a moment before turning away and muttering, “I’m sorry,” Zhengting feels even more guilty than he already is.

“It’s-- I’m just--” he begins, but his mouth just isn’t working at the moment. He suddenly has the urge to cry, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes -- thankfully, the feeling quickly subsides.

“Zhengting,” Justin murmurs, softly, turning around and placing one of his hands on Zhengting’s shoulder -- and much to the latter’s chagrin, his other hand on his _thigh_.

Zhengting very visibly jumps at that moment, and he nearly slaps Justin’s hands away, his forearms and wrists and hands shaking. He bites down on his jaw, trying his best not to show any visible discomfort.

“Geez,” Justin says, with a small laugh. “Seriously, are you okay? You just nearly jumped a meter in your seat.”

“I’m-- just--” And then Zhengting’s voice croaks, “tired.” Yes, he’s tired of all of the bullshit he’s brought upon himself. He hangs his head, burying his face in his palms because that urge to cry has suddenly come back.

Bad idea, he realizes.

Two hands come to wrap around his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

Justin looks at him, his head slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed. Clearly very concerned. “Go sleep,” he says, softly. And then, a small smile appears on his lips. “I can take care of myself until my mom comes home.”

Zhengting’s getting heart palpitations. Oh, wonderful. This will totally help him relax and sleep. He doesn’t reply, and instead a grimace settles on his face.

Justin giggles at his reaction, sliding his hands down so that Zhengting’s palms rest atop his own.

 _Terrible, terrible, terrible idea,_ Zhengting thinks. At the moment, he knows for sure that he hates himself.

The boy’s hands aren’t small, but they’re certainly smaller than Zhengting’s. His wrists are thin, his fingers are thin, his palms are soft, his grip is gentle. Those fingers wrap around Zhengting’s palms, and if anything, Zhengting’s grimace becomes even more severe.

“Okay?” Justin asks. “I don’t want you to stress yourself out too much.”

 _Well shit,_ Zhengting thinks, _too late_.

“Don’t worry about me,” Justin adds, “I’m young, but I’m not a useless kid.”

And for some reason, the word _kid_ sends a pang through Zhengting’s chest. There’s a rush of emotions and feelings, all mingled into that one punch -- things like anxiety, distress, anticipation, irony, hope, desperation, hurt, and a little bit of fear.

* * *

Victoria approaches her son one night while he’s staring at his closet, arms folded in front of him.

“Hey,” she says, softly, walking up to him and tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear.

“Hi, mom,” he replies.

Victoria smiles. “You know, there’s something I gotta ask your advice on,” she hums.

“What is it?” Justin responds.

“Zhengting is turning twenty-three next week,” Victoria says, leaning against the wall. “Since it falls on a Sunday, I was thinking that I’d stop my work earlier in the day and take him to a nice restaurant for dinner. He can invite whatever friends he wants too. What do you think?”

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. “Oh, he’s getting older.”

Victoria laughs. “Well, yeah, that’s what your birthday signifies,” she says. “Just don’t tell him that. Do you have any ideas of restaurants he’d like? I want something as nice as possible.”

“Hmm,” Justin hums, thinking for a moment. “I actually don’t really know,” he replies, after a moment.

Victoria raises her eyebrows. “You don’t know?” She laughs. “And you’re the one that spends all of your free time with him?”

Justin just shrugs. “Really, I know he likes oyster crackers and onion rings, but otherwise I’ve never seen him eat anything other than what he cooks me for meals.” And then he pauses, before adding, “Wait. Maybe a Korean restaurant would be a good idea. He might miss some of the dishes from there.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Victoria replies. “Thanks, Minghao.” She takes a step closer, leaning up on her toes before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you planning to do anything for his birthday?”

Justin pauses, thinking for a moment. “No,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Victoria begins, “if you think of anything and need my help, feel free to ask.”

Justin smiles at her. “Thanks, mom,” he says, and Victoria returns his smile, rubbing his arm briefly before taking her leave.

* * *

“Can we just get takeout?” Zhengting asks, three days before his birthday when Victoria tells him what she plans to do.

She looks at him oddly. “Uh, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?”

Zhengting looks away. “Well, I have a presentation coming up--” he scrunches his nose, staring at his laptop screen, “--and really, you don’t need to--”

Victoria sighs. “Man, how many times do I have to tell you? Let me do whatever I want.” She crosses her arms and smiles. “And besides, I think you should go out. You can invite Chengcheng and the others.”

“Well,” Zhengting inwardly winces, rubbing the back of his neck, which is sore from looking down at his screen for the past four or five hours. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, Victoria, but really, I have a presentation the following Wednesday.”

It’s that Zhengting has been way too tense from both his schoolwork and his personal problems to even be able to _think_ about going out and interacting with others. Chengcheng knows his birthday is coming up as well and had the exact same reaction as Victoria, even going as far as to offer to throw his friend a party -- but Zhengting had exasperatedly told him that he’s just okay with a post on his Weibo profile; in fact, that’s the only thing he said he’d feel comfortable with getting. Besides money, of course. Chengcheng just laughed at him and asked him, “What, do you think my sister is Fan Bingbing?” before pointing out that his solution in the centrifuge has been done for a long time.

Victoria tilts her head. “Well, alright, if you insist,” she relents. “But at least let me give you an ‘I owe you’.”

Zhengting sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Maybe when next week is over.”

Victoria walks away, humming. As she does so, Justin’s head pops up over the top of the couch. “Aw,” he begins, and Zhengting nearly has a heart attack. His laptop is about to slide off of his thighs, and he clumsily clamors to grab it, hitting a bunch of random keys on the keyboard as he does so.

“Christ,” he mutters, holding a hand over his heart and trying to calm his breathing. “You scared the living daylight out of me, Justin,” he says.

Justin giggles at his reaction. “Sorry,” he replies, “I didn’t mean to.”

 _Obviously,_ Zhengting thinks, but he just smiles good-naturedly and sighs.

“I’m disappointed,” Justin says.

“Why?” Zhengting replies.

“I was curious to see what you’d look like in a suit. Since you know, my mom probably would’ve chosen something that’s super fancy and requires a reservation.”

 _Oh my god_ , Zhengting thinks, as he promptly chokes. He wants a hole to appear at that moment and swallow him up.

“Oh geez,” Justin murmurs, an expression of panic passing over his face when Zhengting starts to cough. He reaches out, rubbing the latter on the back. “I’m sorry if I startled you--”

“I-It’s fine,” Zhengting hacks out, holding his chest and grimacing, “I’m just… tired.”

“Sorry,” Justin murmurs. And then a soft giggle tumbles out of his lips the moment after. “But really, I am curious. The closest to formalwear I’ve seen you wear is the clothing I choose out for you.”

“Haha, yeah, right,” Zhengting laughs, awkwardly. His face is now both pink from embarrassment and the fact that oxygen is only just beginning to return to his body. He adds, “But you’ll probably see me wearing something nice for my presentation,” before promptly biting his tongue and inwardly slapping himself because he has absolutely no clue why his tongue is running without the command of his brain. But it’s too bad, because it seems that nowadays his brain doesn’t have control over _anything_.

“Ooh,” Justin murmurs. “I can’t wait,” he says, with a wide grin on his lips.

Zhengting grimaces, and he almost wants to cry.

* * *

His resolve is falling apart. Just a few days can do so much to a person. He hopes, prays, wishes he can find a solution -- now he's actually contemplating throwing himself into a relationship just to get his mind on another person. But who? Two people come to mind: Xuanyi, but he doesn’t have any particular romantic feelings for her, and he doesn't want to ruin their friendship by using her for his own selfishness. And then there's whatever girl his mother mentioned; but the petty part of him doesn't want to contact his mother. He doesn't want to seem like he's admitting she is right.

Yet, that's slowly feeling like his only option.

He's so engulfed in his inner conflicts that it's difficult to focus on the important thing: his schoolwork. Trying to remember what information he needs for his presentation is a pain. It's like he feels like he's got a grip on his thoughts, but then his mind wanders and he stops thinking in the middle of a sentence and can't pick up where he left off. This project is a good chunk of his semester grade, and needless to say, he's panicking.

It's basically impossible to enjoy a day where you're supposed to be happy when you're under so much pressure from both yourself and your environment. Zhengting knows part of his struggles are brought on by himself, but there's only so much he can do to control his own thoughts and feelings -- he's not a robot. He's a human. A human with imperfections and flawed emotions.

The food Victoria orders is all tasteless to him. He hasn't had _tteokbokki_ in what seems like years, but he just simply can't enjoy it the way he used to.

He hardly picks at his food. He doesn't even feel like he's hungry, even though he hasn't eaten anything since breakfast. All he's thinking now is that he's got to do something about his presentation, because the deadline is in less than three days and he hasn't even finished organizing the information on his slides, let alone begun memorizing it.

Both Victoria and Justin notice that there's something obviously wrong with him.

Victoria looks at him worriedly, asking him what's wrong. Zhengting can't do anything but feel a little guilty and say, “Nothing.” She asks if there's anything problem with the food, and he shakes his head.

“If there's nothing wrong, then why are you not eating?” Justin asks. “If you're so intent on doing your work while you eat, let me feed you.”

Zhengting's first thought is, _Oh god_ . His second thought is, _I should say no._ But at this point, he's so physically and mentally drained and Justin has his pitiful eyes on, that Zhengting can't help but think, _Fuck it. Whatever._

He'll just not look at Justin as the boy shoves a slice of beef, held between two chopsticks, into his mouth. He'll just do whatever he can to get by and finish his damn project.

And at the end of the night, he feels like he's dead. He's sitting on Victoria's couch, wrapped up in a blanket like a poor haggler on the street, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.

That is, until Justin wanders over and sits down next to him.

“Is it really that cold in here?” he asks.

Zhengting slowly nods. No, he's not cold, he just wants to hide himself.

Justin giggles softly. “Are you sure you're not sick?” His smile falls a little bit. “You look like you've been in pain all day, and you didn't eat a lot either.”

Zhengting sighs. “I'm just stressed,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing.

“I'm sorry,” Justin replies, gently. “I'm sorry you have to be that way on your birthday of all days.”

Zhengting shakes his head. “Nothing I can't deal with,” he simply says.

Justin stays silent for a minute, tucking his knees into his chest as he stares at them.

Zhengting looks at him oddly, because although Justin is someone who stays more quiet than anything else, the atmosphere around him has all of a sudden darkened.

And then Justin slowly returns his gaze. His expression has hardened a bit. Where it once was simply worried and a little sheepish, he's now displaying some kind of searing emotion that's a mix of both desperation and concern.

“No,” he says.

“‘No’ what?” Zhengting replies. He gulps, because he's suddenly nervous.

“Don't say that,” Justin says. “Please, Zhengting, I know you're not alright. You've been off for the past few weeks. Everyone can see it. My mom can see it, I can see it, Ms. Wu can see it--” And then he turns, reaching out his hands to place them on either side of Zhengting's blanket cocoon, right where his shoulders would be if he weren't wrapped up.

Justin's jaw trembles as he speaks, but his stare is the same as before. “You’re struggling with something,” he says, almost whispering. And then he ducks his head down, his hair falling forward and hanging.

At that moment, Zhengting physically hurts.

“Did I do something to hurt you?” Justin asks, his voice trembling, head still bowed.

“W-Wh--” Zhengting begins, his eyes widening. Where once he held his blanket tightly around him because he simply wanted to hide, he now does so because he's cold. There's goosebumps on his arms, and he shivers. “No, of course not,” he replies, incredulously.

“Then why,” Justin whispers, “ _why_?”

“'Why’ what?” Zhengting asks.

Justin throws his head up. His face is red, tensed, his eyebrows furrowed, staring at Zhengting with some muted kind of anger. It's unexpected to see him like this, someone Zhengting never thought could be angry, but that's not what throws him for a loop.

It's the fact that Justin's eyes are bright and wet, tears having already fallen.

“Why do you refuse to tell me what's wrong?” he asks, almost hissing his words. “Why do you act like everything's okay when it's clearly not?”

“Justin…” Zhengting begins, slowly. His body has frozen, his heartbeat feels like it's stopped, and the only thing that's able to move are his lips. He's about to explain to Justin that it's just a side effect if being an adult, of being a college student, that it's just put a lot of stress on him that he's not used to -- but Justin continues before he can speak.

“You’ve helped me so much, Zhengting. You've helped me with things like homework and food and boredom, but you've also helped me with things like my emotions and my thoughts and my loneliness. So why do you refuse to let me help you? Why are you closing me out? You've seemed so distant recently, and I don't know what to do or think! The only thing that's been going through my mind is that I've hurt you some way or the other. But if that's not the case, then why, Zhengting, _why_?”

He's now full-on crying, tears dripping from his eyes like raindrops off of the side of a glass window. His voice trembles, his lips tremble, his jaw trembles, but the tone he speaks with is so strong, so forceful and intense -- almost evocative to the way Victoria had spoken when she was telling Zhengting about the situation with Justin's father.

Zhengting purses his lips. He's shaken. Scared, nervous, surprised, stupefied? He doesn't know exactly what emotions he's feeling at the moment -- or maybe he can't feel them, because the only things that have been occupying his mind recently are apprehension, loathing, and fear.

Justin moves his hands, grabbing onto Zhengting's face. “You told me,” he begins, whispering, his voice hoarse, “you told me that I should tell you whatever I wanted. Well, this is what I want. I want you to talk to me, Zhengting. Talk to me about what's causing you to struggle. Let me help you sort out your thoughts like you did for me.”

He leans in closer, his hands shaking against Zhengting's face. His palms are warm, but they're the kind of warm that happens when their owner is riled up.

“ _Please_ ,” Justin whispers, his lips twitching. He sniffs, a single tear running down his face and tracing the outline of his mouth.

Zhengting remains deathly still for a moment, staring at Justin.

And then the second later, he lets out a choked sob, his head falling forward. At that moment, he feels like he's ready to give up. Give up what, he doesn't know, but the feeling of defeat is just there, rocking back and forth in his heart.

“I'm s-sorry,” he chokes out, “I'm so, so sorry.” It's an apology to both Justin and himself.

At that moment, Victoria walks in. She's sent reeling for a few seconds before panickedly asking why both of them are in tears.

* * *

Things clear up a little bit after that. Zhengting told Justin that yes, he was not okay. That his schoolwork had put so much stress on him and that he himself had added onto that pressure with being unable to work at his best capacity. Of course, he left out the part about Justin himself.

Zhengting decides that maybe it's not good for him to void himself of all sorts of indulging actions with Justin. Maybe just being completely avoidant and jumpy isn't healthy for either of them. Zhengting just wants things to go back to normal, and he's going to work to get things back to normal.

His mind feels clearer on the day of his presentation. He even lets Justin choose his outfit for him. He wants to look his best, and who else to ask but the stylish kid himself?

“Ah, you look fantastic,” Justin says, grinning as he holds out a blazer for Zhengting to slip his arms through.

Zhengting laughs. “Thank you,” he says, shrugging on the blazer and patting it down. He turns to look at himself in the mirror. Justin's hands are on his shoulders, and they slide down his arms in one swift move.

“You'll do amazing,” Justin murmurs. “Remember to tell me how it goes, okay?”

“Of course,” Zhengting replies.

Justin leans forward, his arms wrapping around Zhengting's torso as he rests his head on Zhengting's shoulder. “Good luck,” he whispers, “but it's not like you'll need it anyway.”

For the first instance in a long time, Zhengting has maintained a spark of happiness throughout the day. He doesn't fuck up his presentation like he thought he would a few days ago. Of course, things could be better, but then again that's with everything he has going on in his life.

When he walks into Xuanyi's classroom in the afternoon, she comments, “Snazzy,” and asks him yet again if he's got a date.

He just rolls his eyes. “No,” he replies, before sitting down at his table. “Had a presentation. Remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Xuanyi hums. “How'd that go?”

And for once, Zhengting can smile and say, “Pretty well, actually.”

When Justin sees him later, Zhengting gives him a small thumbs up and the boy breaks out in a grin. Sicheng, standing next to him, instantly looks in Zhengting's direction, because that's where Justin is looking. Zhengting quickly turns his face away and unlocks his phone, mindlessly tapping until he's sure both of the boys have taken their seats.

It's always been a little bit troubling for Zhengting to keep as neutral as possible in the classroom, even before he realized that he felt some kind of attraction to Justin. But today, maybe because it's the first time in so long he's felt decent, or maybe it's because Justin was the one who helped pull him out of his tangle, he's having a more difficult time than usual keeping his hands to himself.

He wants to hug Justin. Just a hug, that's all, that's all he needs, he tells himself. When he's standing at the front of the class, holding a stack of essays to be returned and calling students’ names out one by one, he gets to _Huang Minghao_ and pauses just slightly.

Justin comes up to collect his paper. They make eye contact, and Zhengting gulps. He wants to do something, anything, but at the same time he doesn't.

So his mouth settles for something in between half-twitching and half-moving in the form of the word “congratulations”.

Justin ducks his head just a little bit, smiling as he walks away.

Zhengting takes a small breath. He'll save the hug for later.

* * *

“I still can't get over how great of a job I did,” Justin murmurs, playing with the flap on one side of Zhengting's blazer. He steps back a little bit, his thumbs running down the navy blue lapels before he glances up. “I’d like to see you wear suits more often,” he says, with an entirely serious look on his face.

Zhengting almost chokes at that moment, but due to some magic he retains a straight face. He clears his throat, smiling bashfully, and says, “Thanks?”

Justin simply smiles.

Zhengting reaches up a hand, hooking his index finger around the collar of his button-up, right next to the knot of his tie. “I would, but ties are a pain and the collar is a bit itchy.”

“It’s probably a little tight,” Justin murmurs. “Here, let me loosen it for you.” His fingers, gentle but resolute, wrap over the top of the knot of Zhengting's tie. He avoids eye contact, his gaze slightly down as he stares at the collar, moving his hand back and forth as he pulls on the knot.

Zhengting stares straight ahead. Justin's hand is resting right at the base of his neck, and he prays that the boy didn't see or feel him gulp nervously, but he knows that prayer had failed a long time ago.

Justin freezes, one hand still hooked around the knot on the tie and the other resting gently on Zhengting's torso.

All of a sudden, the only things Zhengting can hear are his own heartbeat and breathing. He's too hot, the blood in his neck and face simmering beneath his skin.

Justin slowly raises his head, staring Zhengting straight in the eye. He bites his lip, just barely, pulling a little bit of pink into his mouth, and Zhengting can only stand there, deathly still, and stare.

He feels a force around his neck, like he's being pulled forward. The touch is just slight, hardly there, but he feels his head tilt a little bit forward from the force.

And then Justin slides his free hand up, resting it at the junction between Zhengting's neck and shoulder. He leans forward himself, tilting his head slightly to the side so that his lips are just hardly a few centimeters away from the corner of Zhengting's mouth, his breaths small and light and airy.

“Why do I feel this way?” he asks, his voice just barely a whisper, just barely loud enough for Zhengting to hear. “Why do you look so attractive to me?” he adds, his head still tilted off to the side.

Zhengting is staring down at the floor in front of him, his breath caught in his throat. The rush of adrenaline in his veins is almost  unbearable, and his fingers twitch.

“Zhengting,” Justin whispers, his breath hot against Zhengting's skin, “why does my heart start racing when--”

Zhengting can't take it anymore. In just a matter of seconds, all of his resolve has dissipated. His limbs are itching, his blood is rushing, his stomach is doing flips.

“ _Stop_ ,” he commands, almost growling. “ _Stop talking._ ” And then in one swift move, he slides a palm around the back of Justin's neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, and turns his head, pulling the boy closer to him, closing those last few centimeters that had been sending sparks all over his body.

Their lips meet together, roughly, almost painfully, and Justin makes a squirming noise, his eyes wide. Zhengting pulls away just a second after, a crawling of regret and fear climbing up his throat at what he's just done, at the fact that he might've just _hurt_ Justin -- but it's all erased, all rinsed away down the drain when the boy grabs onto his tie with his fist and yanks Zhengting back to him with some crazy kind of force.

Zhengting chokes for a moment, coughing for a second, but he manages to recover fast enough before Justin presses his lips firmly against his, his mouth soft and wet, but hot with a fervor, an intensity of someone who's absolutely insane.

It's like a beast has been awoken inside his chest -- an urge, a force that Zhengting can't explain, but somehow feels just a little bit familiar. He has never been a person that's excessively domineering or brash, but at that moment, his hands shake with the need to grab onto Justin -- with the need to _control_ , and he absolutely cannot restrain himself.

Without any warning, he slides his tongue between Justin’s lips, who eagerly lets him with a mewling sound at the back of his throat that only fuels the fire in Zhengting's veins.

Obviously, the boy is so painfully inexperienced. He's overly excited, teeth sometimes touching, his tongue exploring everywhere, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth as if he were intoxicated.

And then when Zhengting pulls back, gulping for air, the edges of of vision blurry, he's punched in the stomach by what he sees.

Justin stares at him, panting hard, his head slightly tilted back and eyes half-lidded and glazed over. There's patches of pink starting from the bottom of his neck all the way up to his temples, the color most vibrant against his cheeks.

And then those lips. God, Zhengting must be stuck in a dream.

Justin's mouth is held agape as he pants, his lips puffy. They're redder than normal, bitten, the inner portion darker than the rest, giving him a faintly doll-like appearance.

The beast inside Zhengting roars, and with one swift movement he flips the direction he and Justin are facing, and begins to walk forward as Justin moves back. He effectively presses the boy back against the wall, leaning in close, and without hesitation, latches his lips onto Justin's jaw.

His skin there, it's so soft and smooth and Justin lifts his head, allowing Zhengting to move his tongue even lower, down the boy's neck as he revels in how beautiful his skin is, how unmarred and even and--

Zhengting stops. He sees that lump on Justin's throat rise and fall as the boy gulps.

God, that lump. The one thing that drives him insane every time he sees it move.

Without even thinking, he acts upon the first desire his body has.

He leans his head forward and bites down on it.

Justin makes another noise, somewhere between a whimper and a growl, his throat moving as he does so. Zhengting is positively fascinated, so much running through his veins at the moment -- power, excitement, anticipation, _lust_ , that he can't help but simply want to hear more of those noises, want to elicit more reactions.

And the next thing he does is raise his knee, press closer, and dig it into Justin's groin.

Justin makes an extremely strained noise, much louder than anything he's made before, the sound a mix of something like surprise, excitement, enjoyment, and a vague undertone of pain.

Zhengting feels like he's been slapped harshly in the face. He suddenly lifts his head, staring at the person beneath his grip, and he panics.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, a hand slapping over his mouth. “No,” he says, his words muffled underneath his palm, “no, no, _no, no_.”

Without another second, he harshly grabs Justin by his shoulders, turning him around and pushing him forcefully with a palm against his back.

“Wh--” Justin begins, but Zhengting interrupts him.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and not a second later, he's opened his door, shoved the boy out, and slammed it behind him.

Zhengting falls against his door, his head hitting the wood with a dull thud before he slides down onto the floor, burying his head in his arms.

* * *

“Chengcheng,” he says desperately into his phone, “ _please_.”

“You do realize it's a Wednesday, right?” Chengcheng replies. “Why the hell do you need alcohol on a weekday, and why can't you go buy it yourself?”

Zhengting sighs. “Just _please_ ,” he pleads, before he coughs, the sound somewhere between a choke and a cry. “Everything's so wrong, and I just--”

“Woah, woah,” Chengcheng says, alarmed. “Zhengting, since you're so distraught I can come over and help you this time around, but please don't make drinking your problems away a habit, okay? I'm worried about you. And don't get absolutely wasted.”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Zhengting quickly replies, his voice shaking just as harshly as his hands.

“Alright,” Chengcheng replies, slowly, “I’ll be there shortly, just don't hurt yourself or anything in the meantime, okay?”

Zhengting makes a strange noise, halfway between a hum and a cough. “O-Okay,” he replies.

“Okay,” Chengcheng murmurs, before ending the call.

Zhengting sets down his phone on the floor next to him, his head bowed as he slumps forward. His chest feels like it's jumping and his stomach churns, similar to a feeling one would get while riding one of those rollercoasters that spin madly in the air at speeds faster than most people can see.

He's disgusted with himself, more than he's ever been before. The only thought that's been playing in his mind over and over again is, _What the hell have I done?_

He knows what he's done.

He's made a mistake. He gave in to the desires of the carnal side of him. He lost all sort of self-control and restraint, just from a few simple actions and words. _What kind of a weak person am I?_ he thinks. His morals are weak, his mind is weak, his heart is weak.

And not only has he made a mistake on an ethical level, but he’s made a mistake on legal level.

If he hadn’t come back to his senses as soon as he had and things progressed, he would’ve committed a crime -- not that he doesn’t already think of himself as a criminal.

 _Justin is a child_ , he thinks _both characteristically and legally_. There’s six whole years between them, and in those six years, the difference in the amount a person can change and grow is substantial. Zhengting is already past that stage where he’s had to learn how to mature, how to take care of himself, how to keep himself together in one piece, and in the case that he did fall apart, how to pick up the fragments of himself and paste them back together without the hand of another person.

Justin, while outwardly mature, Zhengting knows he’s inwardly immature. He’s childish, naïve, ignorant. It’s clearly showcased in the sheer reliance he has on Zhengting. It’s clearly showcased in his actions, his thoughts, his words. How easily Zhengting was able to see past the defenses he’d put up, how easily Zhengting was able to manipulate them. Pull them apart, piece them back together.

Ah, _manipulation_. Another moral crime he’s committed. Zhengting’s manipulated Justin on both emotional and physical levels. He laughs sourly at himself. The kid probably hates him now, he thinks. Maybe even more than he hates himself. _It’s so disgusting_ , he thinks, about the way he was simply able to put his hand on another person like that with no sort of account for the situation, for logic, for reason, for _right and wrong_. Especially when that person is so young, so vulnerable, so gullible.

That question he once had comes back to him. _Is this some sort of new fetish I’ve developed?_ It certainly feels so, lusting after someone who’s a _kid_. A _boy_. He once assumed that he thought of Justin as simply his younger friend, maybe even his son to some degree -- he took care of the kid, he fed him, helped him with his homework, took him places, tucked him into bed. But, it no longer seems so. Zhengting was blind. He should’ve recognized his feelings from the very first time he thought Justin was beautiful. Yes, parents do think their children are beautiful. But not _that_ kind of beautiful.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to face the kid, who he’s most definitely going to see tomorrow. He doesn’t know how to face Victoria. What if Justin tattles on him? It’s unlikely, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Victoria loves him, but if she finds out, would her love for him overpower the one she has for her son? No. Never, in a million years.

All Zhengting wants to do now is rewind time. He wants to forget, he wants to hide, he wants to cry. He wants to go back to a time where the only things he’d ever imagined about Justin were buying him food or taking him ice skating.

At that moment, there’s a knock on his door.

Zhengting slowly and creakily stands up, opening his door with half a heart.

When Chengcheng sees him standing in the doorway, his hair and clothing disheveled and a clear expression of regret and sorrow on his face, he mutters, “Holy hell.”

He quickly runs inside, putting down the plastic bag in his hand on a table before returning to Zhengting and placing his hands on the latter’s shoulders.

“God, Zhengting, did someone die?” he asks, concerned.

 _I did_ , Zhengting thinks. But he shakes his head.

“Here,” Chengcheng murmurs, grabbing his wrist and shutting the door behind them. He leads Zhengting to the couch and sits, pulling his friend down with him. “What happened? Tell me.”

Zhengting just shakes his head. “I can’t,” he murmurs.

“Why?” Chengcheng asks. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you talk through it.”

Zhengting closes his eyes, burying his face in his palms. “I made a mistake,” he chokes, “I made a mistake that might as well cost me my life.”

Chengcheng’s eyes widen. He’s about to ask if his friend is exaggerating, but by the way Zhengting shakes his head, his face still hidden, tells him that there’s no way any of what he’s saying is a joke.

“You didn’t kill someone, did you?” he whispers.

Zhengting laughs, harshly. “No,” he replies.

Chengcheng takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay, that’s all I needed to know. If it’s something that bad, then I won’t pry anymore.”

Zhengting sighs. “Thanks,” he says, before looking up. “Where’s the _baijiu_?”

Chengcheng scrunches his nose. “Okay,” he begins, “but I’m stopping you before you get completely wasted.”

Zhengting doesn’t care anymore. At the moment, he just wants to forget.

* * *

He wakes up sometime in the middle of the night, his curtains closed, the room completely dark. His throat is dry, his head is throbbing, his eyes are sore, and his lips and corners of his eyes are cracked. He fumbles around in the dark, clumsily standing up and promptly stepping on something fleshy. He hears a groan beneath him, the sound instantly piercing through his ears and causing his head to vibrate even though it wasn’t even that loud.

He manages to stand up, magically finding his footing, and awkwardly hobbles to where he knows the light switch is, his knees wobbly and his ankles weak.

When he flips on the lights, it’s like he’s being stabbed repeatedly in the head. He grabs his temples and growls, the pain sharp and unrelenting.

“God,” he hears, “you could’ve given me a warning.”

“...What?” he murmurs, still holding his head.

Chengcheng suddenly sits up, his head popping up over the couch’s armrest. “You could’ve at least given me a warning that you were about to turn on the lights,” he grumbles, sighing. “Why are you awake? It’s like--” he turns around, lifting up his phone from the coffee table, “--three in the morning.”

“...What?” Zhengting repeats. He’s having a lot of difficulty processing his thoughts.

Chengcheng sighs. “Go the fuck back to sleep,” he says, before flopping back down on the floor.

And then Zhengting’s mind catches up to his environment. “...Wait,” he begins, and then winces as he begins to walk back to the couch, because his footsteps make his head throb, “why are you here?”

Chengcheng lifts his head as Zhengting approaches him. “Do you not remember?” he asks, critically.

Zhengting furrows his eyebrows. “Uh,” he murmurs, trying to recall his memory. “I know we were drinking…”

“Yeah,” Chengcheng states, matter-of-factly. “I think I let you get a little too carried away.” He sighs. “You started getting all emotional and then you grabbed the actual _bottle_ of _baijiu_ and started draining it and I had to basically punch you in the stomach to get it back. Then you started crying and then you passed out _while_ crying, so I figured I might as well stay here to make sure you’re still alive in the morning.”

Zhengting winces. “Oh,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

Chengcheng closes his eyes for a moment. “Whatever, it’s fine,” he replies. “As long as you’re okay. Now, go to the fuck back to sleep, both you and I have three hours until we’re supposed to be awake anyways. Might as well use that time wisely.”

Zhengting swallows. Bad idea, because his throat is still painfully sore. He makes a whimpering noise, and Chengcheng looks at him a little exasperatedly. “Sorry,” Zhengting apologizes, before climbing back on his couch, making sure to not step on his friend this time around, and laying his head back down on a cushion.

When he wakes up to the sound of both of their phones beeping, Zhengting wants to bang his head against a wall. Because a more severe pain would cover up the smaller stabs at his head at the moment, right? He rolls over, nearly falling off of the couch. His eyes are still half-closed, he can’t exactly see where his hands are, but someone shoves his phone in his palm and he brings it up to his eyes, his fingers fumbling as he presses the button to dismiss the alarm.

And then when he rubs his eyes, fully opening them, he stares at his phone screen and sighs.

There’s a bunch of missed calls and unread texts from Victoria.

 _Zhengting, please answer me. If I don’t receive a reply by the morning, I’m going to call the police_.

He jumps, accidentally kicking Chengcheng in the side.

“Holy fuck!” his friend cries, before punching Zhengting in the shin. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Sorry,” Zhengting apologizes hastily, a grimace on his face.

The word _police_ had him at the edge of a stroke. But when he slides open his phone, reading all of the messages Victoria had sent him, it was simply because she thought he might’ve _actually_ had a stroke or fallen severely ill.

 _I’m okay_ , he types, his fingers shaking. He has to go back and retype several times because he keeps on hitting the wrong buttons.

He gets a reply a minute later.

 _Thank goodness_ , Victoria writes, _both Minghao and I were worried about you._

Zhengting swallows thickly at _Minghao_. _Oh god_ , he thinks, _what am I going to do?_ He’s not ready to face anything, let alone the main reason why he’s in such a messy state in the first place.

And then, because he’s young and he figures he feels sick anyways, he tells Victoria he’s actually ill and that he’ll be staying home for the day.

 _Well, alright_ , Victoria replies, a few seconds later, _feel better. I’ll stop by later to make sure you’re okay_.

Zhengting winces. _No need_ , he writes, _I swear I’ll be fine_.

 _Whatever_ , Victoria replies.

“Well,” Zhengting begins, looking up from his phone. “Looks like I’m staying home today.”

“ _What_?” Chengcheng replies, suddenly sitting up. “If you’re going to stay home, then who the fuck is going to help the rest of us finish scoring all the data?”

Zhengting grimaces, trying his best to channel all the disgusting things he’s feeling at the moment into his expression. “I feel like shit,” he says, plainly.

Chengcheng sighs. “Well, okay,” he mutters. “What’re you going to do about your classes and crap, though? And your job at the school?”

Zhengting thinks for a moment. It should be easy for him to make his schoolwork up -- teachers put their assignments online nowadays. And he’ll just text Xuanyi -- she’ll understand, right? “It’ll be fine,” he says, sheepishly, brushing Chengcheng off.

“Alright,” Chengcheng replies, with a sigh. He gets up on his knees. “Do you have an extra toothbrush or something? I didn’t think I’d be staying here overnight, so I didn’t bring one with me.”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Zhengting states. And as he stands up, his knees and ankles still as weak as ever, he nearly falls forward onto his coffee table.

“Nevermind,” Chengcheng hurriedly says, holding up his hands. “I’ll go find it myself or something.”


	11. 逼

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was skimming this as I was copypasta'ing it from the doc and I laughed because the part about Zhengting trying to look up porn for educational purposes and ending up terrified for life has happened to me as well

**逼:**   _Sometimes the motives that we think compel our actions do no such things._

* * *

It’s difficult to do work when you’re in a constant state of screaming at yourself.

Zhengting makes himself a makeshift cave on his couch with the blanket from his bed. It’s draped over his head, but he can still see the light filtering in from the crack in his curtains. He sits there, staring at his laptop screen all day, unsure what to do. No -- not exactly unsure, more like scared.

He’s constantly bouncing between the mindsets of, “you should probably do your work” and “holy fuck, what am I going to do?”

How’s he going to face the world? How’s he going to face his responsibilities? How’s he going to face the people that rely on him and those that he relies on himself? How’s he going to face Victoria? How’s he going to face _Justin?_

Zhengting groans. God, Justin.

The more reasonable, more mature, more _adult_ side of him says that he should own up to his mistake, explain his wrongdoing, and beg for forgiveness.

But the more immature, the more illogical, the more _childish_ side of him says that he should just hide and avoid his problems. Run away from them, because that’s the easiest path of action.

And then whenever he envisions Justin’s face in his head, the exact face he’d had when Zhengting kissed him senseless, he feels like he’s being torn apart even more.

One part of him says he’s disgusting for thinking like that.

The other part of him says, _fuck it_ , the kid is beautiful and Zhengting can’t do anything about it.

And then Zhengting himself is screaming, stuck in the middle of the pit of fire, because both sides of himself are speaking the truth. And he _doesn’t know which one is more right_. Is it even a thing to be _more right_?

_What does being “right” even mean?_

_What is “right” and what is “wrong”?_

He doesn’t know. At this point, those lines have become so blurred for him that he feels like he’s walking a tightrope while blind.

The only thing that he does know is that he’s a sinner.

Plainly and simply, a sinner.

He’s going to hell, no matter how much he repents.

Well, he’s already emotionally and mentally there. Physically, well, he’ll get there one day.

He smiles sourly at himself and lets out a bark of laughter, the sound harsh and severe in his ears.

And for some reason, that simple thought of, _Well, I’m already doomed_ lights a small spark of flame within his person.

It’s not really a flame of hope, or a flame of desperation, or a flame of pity. Rather, it’s a flame of anger, a flame of rigidity, a flame of unforgiving.

Zhengting is still frustrated, he’s still loathing himself, but at least now those emotions that he’s harboring in his chest have a little campfire to sit around and warm their hands.

And for the rest of the week, he stays home. He stays home, grinding his head in his corner, voiding himself of all sorts of interaction with the outside world.

* * *

The weekend passes, and he still doesn’t come out of his apartment. Victoria calls him endlessly, sends him endless texts, knocks endless times on his door, but all he does is reply to her every day at midnight, saying, _I’m okay_.

 _No you’re not_ , she’ll always respond, but Zhengting only reads it with a haughty laugh before setting down his phone and switching his attention back to whatever he’s doing on his laptop.

And before he even knows it, Sunday night rolls around.

He knows he can’t hide forever. He knows he has responsibilities he has to attend to. He knows he’s made everyone that cares about him worried sick. But he’s a human, he’s selfish, he’s irresponsible, he’s flawed.

He always thought he could look past those aspects of himself and present the seemingly pristine, totally normal version of his person and stay that way for the rest of his life. And he’s been doing that for the past twenty-two, almost twenty-three years.

Never in his life could he imagine that a single person, a single _sixteen -- no, seventeen year-old kid_ could completely break that all down in a matter of months.

Zhengting has been living his life responsibly. It’s become a routine for him, and he thought it was a part of his personality, because he’s just been like that for _so long_. But now that he’s given responsibility up for half a week, all of a sudden it’s an entirely foreign idea to him.

He sighs when he sees the clock on his nightstand. It’s already three minutes into Monday.

He buries his face into his pillow, and for the second time that week, he cries himself to sleep.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Justin asks, or more like whispers, his eyes wide, concerned, just a little bit shiny, when Zhengting appears at the doorway.

Zhengting swallows thickly. “Yes,” he replies, his voice strained.

“Okay,” Justin replies.

Driving him to school is almost exactly like the first time he did so.

Justin has his body turned away, his palms on the glass of the window as he stares out at the cars passing by.

Zhengting takes a small breath -- he’s still both physically and mentally exhausted, and he just prays that he doesn’t mistake the gas pedal for the brake.

He manages to slough through all of his classes mildly successfully, he thinks. He turns in all the assignments he’d missed, he takes notes down faithfully even though he’s not sure of at least half of whatever his professors are saying. He ambles into Xuanyi’s classroom a little bit later than usual, and the first thing she does when she sees him is give him a long hug.

“You had me so worried,” she says. “I thought you had some serious illness and were slowly dying or something.”

 _Well, I sort of am,_ Zhengting thinks. He shakes his head. “I’m just a little stressed,” he says, putting on as much of a reassuring smile as he can.

“This,” Xuanyi begins, holding out her hands, “is not ‘little’.” She crosses her arms, staring pointedly at him. “You staying at home for nearly a whole week without any given explanation besides ‘I’m sick’ and then going completely MIA the whole time does not signify ‘little’. What in the world was going on?”

Zhengting winces. “Uh,” he begins, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “some… family problems, I suppose.”

Xuanyi puts her hands on her hips and looks at him strangely. “You ‘ _suppose_ ’?”

“Yeah.” Zhengting purses his lips.

Xuanyi stays silent. If anything, at that moment she looks annoyed, almost angry, but the expression quickly passes. “Okay,” she says, a second later, “as long as you feel better.” She turns around, heading back to her desk.

Zhengting lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He ambles over to his table, takes a seat, and promptly closes his eyes.

He manages, again, to slough through his teaching duties. This time around, he doesn’t forget any important information (such as the _water cycle_ ), but he’s very clearly out of it. One of the girls in Xuanyi’s fifth class comes up to him and asks him if he’s feeling better. She hands him a get well card that all of the students in the afternoon classes signed, and Zhengting takes it, holding it against his stomach. He smiles at her, thanks her, and she returns his smile before walking away.

He opens it during the passing period between the fifth and sixth periods, reading each and every signature and little message carefully. It’s quite a large card, fitting almost a hundred different handwriting styles and pen colors, and reading one page takes him several minutes.

There’s smiley faces, squiggles, small doodles, stars, and more that adorn the message of each individual student. Most of them say simple things such as, “Feel better,” or “Get well”. Some of them are a little longer, such as, “I wish you a speedy recovery,” or “We really miss you!”

His eyes continue to move down the page, scanning all the different colors of ink.

And then he gets to the very bottom left corner and he sees a familiar handwriting style and a familiar name. When he reads the message, his breath is caught in his throat. It’s longer than all the rest, but the writing is extremely tiny so that the message itself doesn’t seem long. What it says may confuse most people, but when Zhengting reads it, it makes all the sense in the world.

_Remember how Pangu tried to separate the Earth and the heavens, but it was too much for him and he ended up dying?_

_-Huang Minghao_

Zhengting feels a pair of eyes on him. He looks up, suddenly.

And there’s Justin staring back at him, standing near the doorway.

Zhengting can’t breathe.

* * *

The rest of the week passes rather uneventfully. Victoria notices that both of them are much more quiet than before, and she jokingly asks Zhengting if they’re fighting.

“No,” he replies, in all seriousness.

“Really,” Victoria says, crossing her arms. “Then what is it?”

“Probably just stress,” Zhengting replies, shrugging. “You know, it’s getting near that time of the year where we’re preparing for finals and whatnot.”

“I guess,” Victoria murmurs, before turning away.

Zhengting can only sigh. He walks around in the kitchen for several rounds, wondering where in the world he put that canister of tea, only to realize ten minutes later that he’s been holding it in his hand the whole time.

And then the weekend comes. He holes up in his apartment again, buried under his blanket with his laptop sitting on his thighs. At this point in his life, he appreciates weekends much more than he ever has. He gets to sleep in, wake up late, stay in his pajamas all day, be in the comfort and quiet of his own home… the only downside to this tranquility is that with little to no distractions, his thoughts are allowed to wander.

_Remember how Pangu tried to separate the Earth and the heavens, but it was too much for him and he ended up dying?_

That one question plays over and over again in his head. He knows what it means, what it signifies, but he doesn’t know how to react.

Should he be happy? Should he be apprehensive? Should he be angry? Fearful? Disgusted? Hopeful?

The question of right versus wrong comes back to him. It always comes back to him, because almost all of his problems at the moment revolve around those two aspects.

Some people say age is just a number. But then again, jail is totally just a room, right?

If only they met when Zhengting was twenty-four and Justin was already eighteen. Then there wouldn’t be problems. Hell, Zhengting even wouldn’t have as many problems if Justin was going to turn eighteen soon.

But he’s not. He’s freshly seventeen. He’s still a child. He still even _thinks_ like a child, even though he himself probably doesn’t realize it most of the time.

Zhengting sighs, closing his eyes and burrowing himself deeper in his blanket.

He jumps when there’s a firm rap at his door.

Of course, he doesn’t want to go and answer it. He’ll just pretend no one’s home. He’ll just sit there and wait for whoever it is to go away.

The person knocks again several seconds later. Zhengting rolls his eyes, willing them away.

But when he hears a voice, speaking to him, just barely audible through the wood of his door, he freezes.

“There’s so much I need to say,” he hears, the voice desperate, pleading, _familiar_. “Please don’t shut me out again. I know you’re in there. You’re probably sitting on your couch, with your blanket over your head and your laptop with you, probably typing away at another PowerPoint or essay you need for your classes. You might even be looking at lesson plans for biology class, you might even be chatting with Seunghyuk and Euiwoong and Hyeongseop. You might--”

Zhengting opens the door, and Justin nearly falls forward, but he instinctively grabs the boy’s wrists, holding them up.

They stare at each other for a second, before Zhengting slowly says, “You can come inside.”

Zhengting goes back to wrapping himself in his blanket when both of them assimilate on the couch. “What is it?” he asks, quietly. “You said you had something to say.”

“I do,” Justin replies, softly. He looks at his hands in his lap as he speaks. “You got my message, didn’t you?”

Zhengting nods slowly.

“Don’t be like _Pangu_ ,” Justin murmurs, “don’t slowly kill yourself.”

A scoffing smile appears on Zhengting’s lips. “But what choice is there?” he asks. “Sure, _Pangu_ did kill himself in the end, but he killed himself doing something right. Something to better the world.”

“Why are you like this?” Justin asks, suddenly. He turns, and outright _glares_ at Zhengting, his jaw tensed and his teeth slightly bared. “What makes you think that you have the right to dictate how whatever _this_ \--” he holds out his hands, “--is goes?”

Zhengting sighs, hanging his head. “I’m twenty-three,” he murmurs. “I’m the adult.”

“You may be,” Justin replies, his voice steely, “but that doesn’t mean this whole thing is one-sided. That doesn’t mean that you’re the only one who has an opinion. The only one that can do anything.” He leans forward, staring intently. “What about _me_?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet, wisp-like, “Have you ever considered to even _think_ about me?”

“Of course,” Zhengting replies, even though he secretly knows it’s the entire opposite.

“ _No_ , you haven’t,” Justin says, sternly, and Zhengting winces. “Zhengting, think. Think past yourself for once. I can tell what you’ve been thinking. I’m not as stupid as you assume. Yes, I am young, and I know you think I’m a kid still, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t know anything in the world. That doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to read you.” He pauses, his breathing rushed. “You think that whatever you’ve been doing, whatever you’ve been thinking is wrong because you think you’re taking advantage of me. That you’re manipulating me, that you’re selfish. But, Zhengting, the only one who’s being played is _you_. You’re playing yourself.”

Zhengting slowly raises his head. “...What?” he murmurs.

Justin nods feverishly. “Remember?” he asks. “Remember what I asked you?”

And when he gets no reply, he continues. “Remember how I asked you why I felt this way? Why you’re so attractive to me, why my heart just starts racing whenever I’m near you?”

Zhengting slowly nods. He looks away.

Justin leans closer, his forehead resting against Zhengting’s neck, who’s still hunched forward. “ _Please_ ,” he whispers. “You’re not the only one who feels this way, so _please_ stop thinking you’re the only one at fault here.”

Zhengting closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Justin’s words cause his heartbeat to flutter. He likes the way they sound on the boy’s tongue. He wants to hear more of those words, but he inwardly feels wrong about that desire.

“But that still doesn’t mean it’s not outright _wrong_ ,” he says. “Justin, you’re not-- you’re still a _minor_ , for god’s sake. You’re still a kid, you’re still in primary school, I’m your _teacher_ , I’m your _caretaker_ … it’s just wrong on so many levels.” He lifts his head slightly, and bites his lip. “What if I did something to you? What if I take a step in the wrong direction? I could lose everything,” he whispers. “And even if I didn’t do anything, if someone knew… if someone knew, I could still lose everything.”

“That won’t happen,” Justin replies, simply. His words sound so sure, so resilient, that Zhengting has a hard time believing his own thoughts. “I won’t let you do anything that would harm both of us.”

And then when Zhengting still doesn’t reply, swallowing thickly, he adds, “Please trust me. Please trust me. I don’t want both of us to suffer anymore.”

He reaches out, his palm resting hotly against the back of Zhengting’s neck. He lifts his head, pressing their foreheads together. “ _Please_ ,” he pleads, “just trust me for once. Let me take care of you for once.” And then he closes his eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes dark against his skin, and Zhengting is yet again reminded of how simply beautiful he is. How youth and innocence is just simply so beautiful.

“I want this to happen so much,” he whispers, his eyes still closed.

Zhengting wants to cry at that moment. “I know,” he replies, his voice hardly audible, “I do too, believe me. But it’s not only the fact that it’s wrong, but I also feel so _disgusted_ with myself sometimes. I just think that I’m a disgusting man.”

And then Justin huffs at his words, a tiny smile appearing on his lips. Zhengting is about to confusedly ask what in the world he’s smiling about, but the boy beats him to it.

“If you’re a disgusting man,” he begins, “then I’m a disgusting boy too.”

Zhengting purses his lips. He feels the blood underneath his skin begin to simmer at Justin’s words.

“At first, I thought that I might love you,” Justin continues. “But now, I _know_ that I love you.”

Zhengting might’ve been playing himself, but at that moment, Justin is playing him too.

* * *

“Let me love you the same way you've loved me,” Justin had whispered, in his ear.

Zhengting sat, deathly still, as Justin had held his face in his palms and given him a kiss on his forehead.

He wished there was more he could've said, but his spirit was just so drained at that moment, as if he suddenly aged decades all in one go. Justin's touch was warm, and it was the only thing keeping the flame that was Zhengting's heart alive and flickering.

He had protested, his voice strained, “You can love me, but not like that.”

And then he looked up, staring Justin straight in the eye. “Things are not as simple as that,” he added, sullenly. “What if -- no, _when_ I lose control, just like I did before, what's going to happen? There's so many paths this could take.” He hung his head. “You might think avoiding this is harmful for both of us, but isn't it just as harmful if we both give in?”

And all of a sudden, he felt a ball of emotion climbing up his throat, his eyes prickly, as if he were being stabbed by tiny needles. _Now's not the time to cry,_ he reminded himself, _you've done enough of that already._ He gulped, swallowing his emotions. “I feel like I'm constantly doing something I'm going to regret,” he murmured. “I'm not only worried about hurting you and myself, but I'm worried about the consequences. There will be consequences, Justin, no matter if no one or someone finds out. It could be anything from a lifetime of guilt to me being put in a prison cell.”

Justin bit his lip, taking in what Zhengting had said carefully. “I understand,” he'd replied, quietly. “But what are you doing to yourself, Zhengting? You look like you're actually dying every time you have to restrain yourself. And--” he sighed, “--I feel like I'm dying every time I have to restrain myself too. Maybe you've been so stuck in your head and didn't notice, but I've touched you less, because I didn't want to scare you and make things worse.”

“Then why?” Zhengting asked, “Why did you pull that-- whatever that was, on me?”

Justin simply smiled and said, “Looks like both of us need lessons in self-control.” And then he'd wrapped his arms around both Zhengting and his blanket. He whispered, “We can work on it. Together.”

Zhengting had asked him what he meant.

“If what you said about having no control being extremely harmful is true, and if completely isolating yourself is just as bad, then let's find somewhere in between.”

Zhengting stared, confused.

“I won't share a bed with you,” Justin clarified, “but I'll still hug you. I'll hold your hand, I'll pick out your clothes, I'll watch TV with you, I'll do my homework with you. Just like things used to be -- how they should still be. I promise I won't do anything that will tempt you. But there's one more thing that I want.”

“...What?”

“Let me kiss you.”

Zhengting immediately opened his mouth to protest.

Justin shook his head. “Just lightly,” he reasoned, “nothing like...before. Because that would definitely fall under tempting you. And me.”

Zhengting huffed, turning away. “That's so complicated,” he murmured. “Why are you so insistent? Why can't you just go date someone else? You can always come back to me after a year or something. Just occupy yourself with someone else.”

And then Justin replied softly, “I could say the same about you.” He smiled, almost sorrowfully so, and said, “Please. Just try it. This way, we can work our way up and by the time I'm eighteen both of us will be sane and not locked up. _Trust me._ ”

There was and is still a part of Zhengting that wants to protest, that wants to say no, that's warning him that he's bargaining with something dangerous. But the rest of him thinks it might be a reasonable idea, that Justin's words made sense. Zhengting doesn't want to end up on either side of the spectrum -- crazy, or forever guilty, or both.

And that's how he ended up with Justin planting a very small kiss on the corner of his mouth, before leaning against Zhengting's side and asking how his day was.

Zhengting may have learned to piece himself back together without a helping hand, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wish for one once in a while.

* * *

There will always be a part of him that says this is wrong.

But there's always also going to be a larger, more overbearing part of him that just wants to be happy. That just wants to forget there was ever a part of anything that was wrong, that holds him in its arms, strokes his hair, and tells him things will be okay.

He believes it, because he wants to believe it.

He appears at the doorway of the apartment above his every morning at seven thirty, sometimes earlier if Victoria doesn't have time to cook breakfast. Justin will greet him openly, grabbing his wrist and pulling him inside with a groggily content expression on his face. He'll drape himself over Zhengting, the air around him warm and sleepy, and almost intoxicating. He'll smile lazily into Zhengting's neck, whispering him a good morning. If his mother isn't there, he'll press a soft kiss to Zhengting's pulse and leave an imprint of his happiness for him to remember for the rest of his day.

At first, Zhengting wasn't used to it. It was unsettling for him, simply because he didn't expect it -- he'd fallen out of the habit _of_ expecting it.

But it was so easy, so completely unexpectedly easy for him to revert back to expecting it, revert back to how things were beforehand, because that's what he'd been wishing for all along with all the hope in his body.

Except this time around, their relationship is simultaneously what they had beforehand and something they've never had before.

It's new territory for Zhengting. It's not like he'd never been in a relationship before -- oh, he's had plenty of experiences with relationships on all parts of the spectrum.

But never in his life would he imagine he'd be in a relationship that essentially encompasses him in all sorts of boundaries, and yet he’s also simultaneously somehow okay with that.

Sure, it's frustrating for him sometimes. He still gets those dreams that make him feel like he's losing control, a surge of power flowing through his veins, the skin of the person beneath him hot and willing. It's an experience that he's thoroughly terrified of, since it's so foreign and surreal, but he also thoroughly enjoys. And it's quite frustrating that things won't play out in real life like that.

But then he reminds himself, it's all for the benefit of both himself and the person that he loves.

Justin can see when he's had a restless night's sleep. The boy will look at him worriedly, not go near him until he's calmed down, and then say, “Appreciate what you have now, because the more you wait, the better things in the future will be.”

Zhengting then thinks Justin is too smart for his own good. He asks himself why he's the unlucky person who gets to be wrapped around the finger of a person who he's not sure is seventeen or twenty-seven but is clearly stuck in the body of a seventeen year-old.

Youth, he thinks, is an asshole. But it's also a huge reason he's attached to Justin anyways.

Is it just because Justin is a combination of a bunch of things but with youth as such a huge factor, or is it because youth is now Zhengting's new type? When he's sitting at his desk and procrastinating, he thinks about this sometimes. All the girlfriends he's had in the past were either his age or older. The celebrities he finds attractive are all some level of conventionally beautiful, but in the glamorous and flashy kind of way.

Basically, the very opposite of Justin. Not that he's conventionally unattractive, but his type of beauty is one that is subtle, almost _dainty_ , effortless, magnetic. The type of beauty its owner is completely unaware of, and most of the time the people around him too. But once discovered, it glows, bright and pure in the palms of whomever he chooses to entrust it in.

And then Zhengting remembers that while he himself is mentally a little elderly sometimes, his body is clearly not. The thing that they call a libido likes to rear its annoying head a few times every week or month or whenever the hell it wants. Now, because he hasn't had a girlfriend for the past two years, there wasn't exactly someone or something for him to focus on while he got himself off. He just imagined some hot girl he once saw and then let himself do whatever he wanted to at the moment.

But now, now he's got someone that's always stuck in his head.

And it feels so, so, _so_ wrong.

He realizes Justin probably sexualizes him as much as he sexualizes Justin. But there's a clear difference between an adult jerking off to someone who's stretches younger than him than a kid who's jerking off to someone who's stretches older than him. After all, basically all teenage boys get their first urges from looking at women who are clearly out of their league in both standards and age.

So, what does Zhengting do? He turns to the internet.

It's not like he even watches porn on a regular basis -- that's totally Seunghyuk's thing. He never liked how exaggerated the sounds actors made and he certainly does not want a close-up of another man's dick, let alone one the size of a horse, because apparently all male adult film stars are required to have genitalia that falls into the ninety-ninth percentile; no wonder men are so insecure about their dick lengths.

But there's a fetish for everything, and therefore porn for everything, right?

When he opens up his VPN, because porn is a sin according to the government in China, he pauses. What the hell does he search? Or more like, what the hell does he search that also won't get him in trouble, because “young boy” is going to set off alarms for any internet service provider, no matter how porn-loving they are.

Well, he figures he might as well start off with “gay porn”. He takes a deep breath, because he's never stepped foot into that hemisphere of the adult film industry.

On the web page that pops up, he scrolls mindlessly, staring at thumbnails and titles with a wary look on his face. After several videos, the thumbnail on one of them has an image of a relatively young-looking actor who seems to have a slimmer body type and a more innocent face based upon the image of him that's displayed. Zhengting reads the title. He recognizes every word except the word “twink” -- oh, so is that what whatever this fetish is called?

And then out of curiosity, he clicks on it.

He regrets not reading the categories the video is put under.

He begins clicking at random intervals on the video, and then almost screams when he gets to the middle.

He's stopped at a scene where the actor that was on the thumbnail is crouched and leaning forward while on his knees, blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. His head is pulled back at an uncomfortable angle, Adam's apple jutting out oddly, his hair grasped in the fist of another man. The man has a round, spiked sort of contraption in his other hand, and is running it over the other's spine.

Zhengting instantly closes the window, a hand slapped over his mouth in shock. And then without hesitation, he gets up and throws himself onto his bed, burying his face into his pillow, and screams.

He screams because for one, he feels very sorry for himself. And two, now he's getting ideas and that is _the complete opposite of what he was trying to do._

The next minute, he dunks his head underneath a stream of icy cold water from his sink and tries to scrub both his eyeballs and his brain.

* * *

The second week of April, Zhengting drives himself and Justin up to Beijing to meet Seunghyuk and help him assimilate into his new dorm.

When he sees Seunghyuk standing at the doorway, the first thing he does is lunge at his friend and envelop him in a searing hug.

“Christ,” Seunghyuk says, laughing as he returns Zhengting's embrace, “have you been mistreated or something the whole time?”

“Yes,” Zhengting instantly replies.

Justin, standing a little ways off, crosses his arms and stares oddly.

Seunghyuk laughs, a wide grin on his lips. “Ah, this must be Justin,” he says, switching to Chinese and letting go of Zhengting as he approaches the boy behind him.

“Hello,” he greets, putting on his nice uncle voice. “I'm Choi Seunghyuk.”

“Hi,” Justin replies, a little bit shyly, tucking his hands behind his back. “It's nice to finally meet you, Ch--” and then he pauses, frowning slightly.

Zhengting laughs softly. He probably can't pronounce _Choi_ easily, since there's no sound close to _chwe_ in Chinese.

Seunghyuk picks up on his confusion, and he smiles reassuringly. “Cui Chengxi _,_ ” he says.

“Oh,” Justin murmurs. “Okay, Cui _shu-shu_.”

Zhengting instantly starts laughing madly, holding himself against the wall as he points at Seunghyuk.

“What?” Justin asks, innocently.

“You're now an uncle!” Zhengting exclaims at Seunghyuk, smiling stupidly.

Seunghyuk growls. “Shut up,” he retorts, and turns back to Justin. “You can just call me Chengxi or even Seunghyuk, whatever you refer to me as with Zhengting.”

Justin looks so conflicted at the moment, that Zhengting can't help but pet his head lovingly.

“Zhengting wasn't lying when he said you were tall,” Seunghyuk adds, with a hum, staring at Justin intently as if he were the neighbor's kid that wouldn't stop playing ding-dong-ditch with his doorbell.

Justin tilts his head, looking at Seunghyuk curiously. “You’re taller than me,” he murmurs, fascinated.

“One meter and eighty-five of pure muscle,” Seunghyuk says, flashing a grin, and Zhengting rolls his eyes.

He shoves Seunghyuk in the shoulder before muttering, “Are we here to help you unpack or not?”

Later, Seunghyuk hands him a plastic bag full of candy. “Your shit that you wanted,” he says.

“What's that?” Justin asks, walking over.

Zhengting promptly holds it out for him. “Yours,” he says, simply, “take it.”

Justin looks confused for a moment.

Zhengting just sighs. “It's candy, Justin, _take it_ and thank Uncle Seunghyuk.”

Seunghyuk kicks him in the shin, and while Zhengting is hopping around in pain, holding one leg up in the air, Justin smiles cutely at Seunghyuk and thanks him.

“I can see why Seop thought he was cute,” Seunghyuk murmurs to Zhengting, as he and his friend are finishing folding Seunghyuk's shirts and Justin sits on the carpet, chewing on a raspberry log as he reads something on his phone. “I don't know much about his personality besides what you've told me, but his demeanor and his face combined reminds me of that Pomeranian my grandmother used to have.”

Zhengting raises an eyebrow. “Really?” he replies. “Well, then he's one giant Pomeranian.”

Seunghyuk laughs. “Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “Cute, y’know. The kind that follows around his owner all the time and pulls stupid shit just to get attention.” He hands Zhengting another shirt. “But then be still gets pampered anyways.”

Zhengting scrunches his nose.

Seunghyuk notices his reaction, and he smiles softly. “Well, the following around part is kinda true.”

“What?” Zhengting replies.

Seunghyuk nods. “Any person who has basic skills in reading people can obviously see it,” he notes, nonchalantly. “Except, this time I'm not sure which one of you guys is the Pomeranian and which one is the owner.”

And then, when Zhengting stares at him oddly, as if he were contemplating his words, Seunghyuk adds, “I guess that boils down to who's getting pampered and who's pulling the stupid shit.”

* * *

On the last day of spring break, Seunghyuk makes his way down to Tianjin and visits Zhengting. When Victoria sees him, she holds out her hand and gives him a professional smile. “Ah, so this is the famous Choi Seunghyuk,” she says. “Zhengting has insulted you a lot to me.”

“ _What_?” Zhengting exclaims. “She's lying,” he says, glaring at Victoria.

“I'm not mad,” Seunghyuk says, returning Victoria's smile as he takes her hand. “I expected that.” He adds, “Your Korean accent is very good,” when Victoria stops laughing.

“That's because she likes Korean media,” Zhengting explains, “she knows all the lyrics to Psy’s Champion.”

Victoria instantly turns her head. “Who told you that?” she asks, her eyes narrowed, tone accusing.

Zhengting walks off casually. He's going to find Justin and tell him to hide.

Later, him and Seunghyuk meet up with Chengcheng at the mall. They wander around the stores, looking for nothing in particular. When Zhengting tries to pick clothing off of a rack and coordinate it, Seunghyuk asks him if his fashion sense evaporated as rapidly as he'd gotten it.

“No,” Zhengting replies, “it wasn't mine in the first place.” He laughs. When Seunghyuk looks at him questioningly, he adds, “Justin likes to dress me up sometimes.”

Seunghyuk raises an eyebrow. “...A seventeen year-old couldn't have afforded that watch of yours, right?”

Zhengting snorts. “His mom,” he replies, “and it didn't even cost her anything.”

Seunghyuk sighs. “I wish I had someone like that,” he murmurs. “You're so lucky.”

“Isn't he?” Chengcheng exclaims, having returned from the fitting room with three garments draped over his arm. They're all basketball shorts colored in some variation of blue, one of them the exact same color as the pair he's wearing. Zhengting rolls his eyes. Typical.

“Wish I had a rich lady friend like that,” Chengcheng adds. “Or a sugar mama. Zhengting denies it, but Victoria is hot. Don't know why you wouldn't hit that, man.”

Zhengting chokes. “Geez!” he exclaims. “She's basically like, my _mom_ , Chengcheng. Do you need me to give you the lecture again?”

Seunghyuk raises his eyebrows curiously. “What lecture?” he asks.

Zhengting sighs. “One, she's twelve years older than I am. Two, she changed my diapers when I was a baby. Three, she'd be basically dating someone nearly the same age as her son. And four, I already feel bad enough about her generosity _without someone else hounding me to take up more of her time_.”

Seunghyuk chuckles at his response. “Fair enough,” he laughs, “so does that give me permission to take a shot?”

Zhengting steps on his foot harshly just as Chengcheng exclaims, “If he gets a shot, then I should too!”

“I don't know why you all are like this,” Zhengting sighs, “isn't it weird? Twelve years apart.” And then he slowly closes his mouth. _Justin and I are six_ , he thinks, _half of twelve._

“Depends on when you're asking,” Seunghyuk replies with a shrug. “Eighty and sixty-eight isn't bad, but twenty and eight obviously is.”

“Oh my god,” Chengcheng whispers, instantly grimacing with disgust. “Why’d you have to choose _those_ numbers?”

Seunghyuk laughs. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “But really, it is just when you ask. Because at such an old age like sixty both people are probably at the same maturity and thinking level, but then something like twenty-eight and sixteen -- now that's a pretty big gap in maturity and there's so many problems with communication and whatnot that could arise with that.” He pauses, tilting his head, and adds, “Unless you just have a thing for kids, then that's just straight up bad and you need help.”

Zhengting crosses his arms. “And I think twenty-three and thirty-five is a pretty big gap in maturity,” he says, pointedly.

Seunghyuk rolls his eyes, beginning to flip through garments again.

Zhengting sighs, turning away. He knows the irony in his words, because they've always been haunting him, no matter how hard he tries to forget and ignore -- Seunghyuk just reintroduced them to him.


	12. 貼

**貼:**   _If two entities are emotionally close, then does that mean they're physically tied?_

* * *

On a Saturday, him and Justin are relaxing on the couch, watching _Asura_. Justin leans on him, his head resting on Zhengting's shoulder, their hands loosely intertwined as he reaches over with his free hand to grab more popcorn out of the bowl sitting in Zhengting's lap.

He stands up to go use the bathroom a minute later, and Zhengting absentmindedly continues watching, his tongue subconsciously rubbing against one of his back teeth because an annoying popcorn kernel is stuck there.

There's a knock at the door a moment later. Zhengting raises his eyebrows. Who in the world could that be? Victoria wouldn't knock on her own door, and there is no one invited today. He figures it might be some solicitor, so he stands up and opens the door with the intention to shoo them away.

But he's entirely caught off-guard at who he sees.

The man stands there casually, his hands tucked into the pockets of his khakis. His hair is gelled back, his face clean and shaved.

Zhengting has only seen him once in real life and several times in photos, but he can recognize that face anywhere, because it's just vaguely reminiscent of one he knows so well.

“Ah, I didn't think Victoria already found someone,” the man says, with a laugh. “And someone so young, too. But you're quite a handsome man. She’s so superficial sometimes. I bet seeing you two in public together is quite the stunner.”

Zhengting pauses, his eyes narrowed. Should he reveal who he is? But he quickly answers that -- _no_ , it's best to act completely oblivious.

“I’m sorry?” he says, putting on his best confused expression. “You must have the wrong unit, sir, there is no ‘Victoria’ living here.”

The man laughs. “Admirable effort,” he replies. “But don't lie, because I'm not that stupid. I wouldn't have come here if I didn't do my research. What lies about me has my beautiful Victoria been telling you?” He pauses and chuckles when Zhengting remains silent, his body tensed. Zhengting knows why this man is here. He knows what he wants, and Zhengting will not let him have it for both Victoria's sake and his own selfishness.

“Ah, whatever,” the man says. He smiles. “You probably know why I'm here if you're acting so hostile. Would you please let me in?”

Zhengting quickly shakes his head. He feels his skin prickle, his hands getting hot with agitation. It's becoming difficult to keep his voice level and relaxed. “I'm sorry sir, but like I said, you must have the wrong unit.”

The man laughs again. “What'd I tell you? Don't lie to me.”

Zhengting crosses his arms, his expression beginning to show signs of annoyance. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replies. “If you refuse to leave, then I'm sorry, but I will have no other choice than to call the police.”

The man holds up his hands. “Woah, woah,” he says, as if he were alarmed, but Zhengting can tell by his tone and the smile on his face that he's just joking. “You're a pretty stubborn one, aren't you?” He chuckles. “I can see why Victoria chose you. You remind me of my younger self.”

Zhengting feels a ball of disgust form in his stomach. _I'm not an asshole like you,_ he thinks.

The man shakes his head and comically sighs. “Guess it's no use,” he murmurs. “I'll take my leave for today.” He stands up straight, waving at Zhengting slyly before promptly turning around and stalking off.

_For today._

Zhengting closes the door and leans against it. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, closing his eyes for just a moment.

That second, Justin reappears. “Who was that?” he asks, curiously.

Zhengting shakes his head. He takes a breath. “Just a salesman,” he says, nonchalantly. “Let's continue watching.”

“Okay,” Justin replies, contentedly.

Zhengting pauses. “If you don't mind, I just remembered that I forgot to submit an online assignment that's due tonight. Let me run down to my place real quick.”

Justin nods. “Alright,” he murmurs. “I'll wait for you, this is just getting to the good part.”

Zhengting smiles. “Thanks,” he says, as he opens the door.

When he closes it behind him, he takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone.

 _Victoria,_ he writes, _your ex-husband just dropped by for a surprise visit._

* * *

“Stay calm,” Zhengting says, when he lets her into his apartment. “Tea? The water just finished boiling.”

Victoria nods, swallowing as she walks inside and takes a seat at the dining table.

“He didn't see him,” Zhengting says, as he's dropping tea leaves into two cups. “I didn't let him inside.”

“Okay, okay, good,” Victoria murmurs. “What'd he want?” she asks, pursing her lips apprehensively.

“He didn't outright say,” Zhengting replies. “But he said I must know what he wants because I was being so 'hostile’.” He includes air quotes around the word. As he brings the two cups soaking the tea leaves back to the table, he grimaces. “The way he speaks is so _degrading_.”

Victoria nods, sighing. “Clearly, you can see one if the reasons why I divorced him,” she murmurs.

Zhengting scoffs. “Yeah,” he agrees, “he thought I was your new boyfriend or something, then called you superficial because I'm young and handsome. And then he said he could see why you 'chose’ me because I reminded him of his younger self.”

Victoria outright laughs at that moment, holding her stomach as she leans forward. “That's classic,” she replies. “Thank you for not letting him in and driving him away,” she says. “If Minghao were home alone, I don't want to imagine what that man could've said to him.”

Zhengting smiles. “No problem.”

Victoria leans back in her chair, taking a deep breath. “But what do we do now?” she murmurs. “He'll be back. I don't know for how long, but he has enough money to stay here in Tianjin for a substantial amount of time. You can't be with Minghao 24/7. That man is cunning, he could contact him through the school or something.”

“The first option is to convince him to go back,” Zhengting begins, “which is the hardest. The easiest option--” a stupid grin appears on his lips, “--is to kill him.”

Victoria chuckles at his response. “Brilliant,” she says. She crosses her legs, pursing her lips for a second before she speaks. “For now, I can try to speak to him to get him to leave, but I highly doubt he'll listen to me.” She sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. “He won't resort to creative ways to contact Minghao at first, so just keep an eye out. But we have to find some sort of resolution quickly.”

“I know,” Zhengting murmurs. “You could try calling his fiancee again?”

“I suppose,” Victoria replies. “I doubt that will work, but I will try.”

Zhengting nods solemnly. They stay silent for a minute, brooding. “What else is there?” he murmurs. And then, he adds, very quietly, “The other main option is to let him speak to Justin.”

“ _No_ ,” Victoria firmly replies.

Zhengting is about to ask why, but he shuts his mouth.

Victoria stares at him, her expression steely. Although her eyes are cold, unforgiving, strong, he sees weak emotions behind them.

He sees fear, he sees worry, he sees anxiety. He sees the concerns of a woman who's been living with the doubt of the companionship of everyone besides herself. He sees a woman with a perpetual loneliness, still leeching life out of her over a decade since its instillment.

But also, he sees hatred in her. Hatred towards the person that helped her spin her web of isolation before tangling her, trapping her within it.

* * *

One day, Justin burns the side of his wrist on a Bunsen burner. When Xuanyi hurries over and asks what in the world happens, he blames Sicheng.

“ _What_?” Sicheng sputters. He waves his hands around, nearly hitting Justin in the face. “I swear, Ms. Wu, I didn't do anything!”

“You punched me in the shoulder,” Justin replies, pointedly.

“Because I tripped on a chair leg!”

Justin sighs, cradling his wrist. “Yes, and that's why it's your fault.”

“It was an accident! How is that--”

Xuanyi crosses her arms. “Boys, stop your bickering,” she says, exasperated. “Doesn’t matter who's at fault, all that matters is that someone got hurt.” She leans over, holding out a hand. “Let me see.”

Justin gently places his hand sideways in her palm.

“It's not serious,” Xuanyi states, after a moment, staring at the angry red welt on his skin. “Your skin hasn't started peeling yet, but go down to the nurse's office and see Mrs. Lu, she’ll give you a bandage and a cold compress.” She looks over her shoulder. “Hey, Zhengting,” she says, and Zhengting promptly looks over from where he's sitting, flipping through a binder. “Take Justin down to the nurse, would you?”

“Sure,” Zhengting murmurs, standing up.

He leads Justin down the hallway, his hands casually tucked in his pockets. “Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks.

Justin nods. “It only hurts a little bit, but right now it's just really itchy.”

Zhengting glances over. “Don't scratch it,” he says, “I don't want you to end up bleeding all over the place.”

Justin giggles, his head moving back and forth slightly as he walks. “That would be quite a sight.”

When Mrs. Lu sees the ugly red mark on Justin's wrist, she tsks as she shakes her head. “You boys need to be more careful,” she notes. “You're the second burn victim I've had today.”

Zhengting watches her reach up to open a cabinet, rifling through a small box and pulling out a relatively large bandage before reaching down in the refrigerator at her feet and extracting a cold pack. Zhengting is about to take his leave, but a phone in the background rings and Mrs. Lu says, “Oh, excuse me for a moment,” before she sets down the items and walks away.

“Tch,” Zhengting mutters, leaning against the doorway after Mrs. Lu passes him. He shakes his head, approaching the counter. Justin watches him curiously.

“I can buy a car with your tuition and yet this school is still understaffed,” he says. “The high school I went to had an office administrator as a nurse too, but that was a poor school.” He rips a paper towel off of a roll, wrapping it around the cold compress before sitting down in front of Justin and holding out his palm.

Justin places his hand in Zhengting's palm without a word. Zhengting presses the cold compress to the burn mark, holding it firmly in place. “Tell me when there's no more pain,” he says.

“Thank you for helping me, but you don't have to do this,” Justin murmurs. His gaze flickers off to the side for a moment. “Don’t you still have to help Ms. Wu?”

Zhengting tilts his head, looking at the time on his watch. He shrugs. “It's almost time for school to end anyways,” he says, “I'm quite sure Xuanyi can manage cleanup herself.”

“Okay,” Justin replies, softly. He turns his head, glancing out the door for a second before turning back. He pauses, as if contemplating something, and bites his lip nervously.

Zhengting raises his eyebrows slightly.

And then, without warning, he leans forward, pressing a small kiss to Zhengting's cheek.

When he pulls back, Zhengting hastily whispers, panicked, “What was that for? We're in _school_.”

Justin just shrugs, meekly, and says, “I just wanted to. Why can't I kiss you on the cheek? I--” he pauses, his eyes diverted, and if anything, Zhengting sees a wave of pink begin to climb up his neck. The next words he speaks are hushed, quiet, shy. “Really, really like you.”

And then Zhengting smiles, because there's a little flutter in his heart. He leans forward, tilting his head slightly so he can look Justin in the eye while the boy's gaze is still diverted. “I thought you told me you loved me,” he whispers, jokingly.

Justin looks even more away. “That too,” he replies, sheepishly, and Zhengting laughs. How cute.

* * *

“You’re so persistent, Victoria. Who gave you the right to even talk to Liying in the first place?”

“And who gave you the right to come here? To demand your way into my home?” Victoria retorts, her teeth bared.

Her ex-husband laughs. Zhengting is standing off to the side, his back against the wall. He’s thankful that Justin just happened to be at Sicheng’s place that afternoon.

“I told you before, Junjie. I told you my answer, and that’s the only thing I will tell you,” Victoria states, her tone cold, her posture stiff.

Her ex-husband laughs again. Zhengting can only imagine how he looks at the moment, haughty and confident. “Why don’t you just let me speak to little Justin, Victoria? Why do you keep on insisting that you keep him hidden from me?”

“Because he doesn’t wish to see you,” Victoria growls. “He never did. Why do you think he’s never visited you all these years?”

“And why am I supposed to assume you’re not lying?” Junjie replies, casually humming. “He’s my son. He’d never hate his own father. So--” he pauses, leaning forward, holding up a palm, “--how do I know you haven’t been putting words in his mouth this whole time? For god’s sake, Victoria, even after all these years, you still call him _Minghao_.”

 _Oh, crap_ , Zhengting thinks. He hurriedly clamps his palm over his mouth to keep his surprise contained. His fingers itch, and the blood underneath his skin begins to sprint. He’s overwhelmed with a sensation of not only anger and irritation, but a sensation of urgency. Urgency to punch this man before he leaves. In the several years this man had spent with Victoria, he’d never even considered to understand his then-wife’s emotions and thoughts. He’d never even considered to understand them during and after their divorce, instead choosing to be stuck in his own world. His own world where he was in control of everything, and if the outside world didn’t match that, then he’d twist it, strangle it with his own hands to make sure that it did.

And that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. Twisting Victoria. Twisting her words, her emotions, her actions.

“You’d never understand,” Victoria hisses. Zhengting sees how forcefully she digs into the door with her hand, how almost the entire limb is now white with a lack of blood. “And you never did. Stop being so selfish, Junjie. Stop thinking that you’re right about everything. You even refuse to listen to your goddamn fiancee.”

Junjie smiles. “What say does Liying have in this?” he asks, casually. “She has nothing to do with this little quarrel between you and I.” And then he leans in closer a bit, sighing slightly. “Actually, I don’t even know why we’re quarreling. I should’ve just skipped you and found Justin directly,” he says. “I bet he’d be more open. I bet he’d consider my offer, if it weren’t for you.”

“What in the world gives you the right to think that?” Victoria retorts, her voice higher, almost a shout.

“Because I’m his father. And whatever he told me he wanted, I gave him, because that made him happy.” He chuckles, quietly. “Something that I think is what distinguishes you from me.”

“You--” Victoria begins, but she doesn’t manage to continue, because somebody shoves her to the side.

Zhengting lunges, the edges of his vision blurry, his legs, arms, and mind shaky. He’s never felt this exact emotion before, but he’s felt something similar. Like power rushing through his veins, his fingers shaking with the urge to grab, with the urge to physically harm, except this time, the source of that power is the desire to protect, the desire to avenge, the desire to degrade and crush.

And with one swift move, his knuckles connect with the side of Junjie’s head with a dull _thwack_.

The man falls from the sudden impact, his knees folding beneath him as he’s pushed backwards. The back of his head hits the iron railing behind him harshly, sending a ringing through the air as he collapses against it.

Zhengting is so riled up that he can’t even feel the throbbing in his hand. He’s so riled up, that even though Junjie is clearly completely overwhelmed and hasn’t recovered from the initial shock of being punched, he still harshly grabs him by the collar of his polo, his fist shaking with power and adrenaline, crumpling the material in his grip.

“Zhengting!” Victoria cries. She’s picked herself back up, and she quickly grabs Zhengting’s free arm, folding it in a lock behind him. “Do not,” she begins, her voice firm and steely, “punch him again.”

Oh, Zhengting definitely wants to, but that wasn’t his intention. He shakes the hand that’s gripping Junjie’s collar. Junjie’s head shakes as well with the movement, his eyes wide and the expression on his face stuck with the same emotion of shock it had previously. Zhengting stares into his eyes, searching. He only becomes more angry when he doesn’t see what he’s looking for.

He doesn’t see fear, and that’s what he wanted to instill.

“ _Stop_ ,” Victoria commands. “Please, _stop_.”

Zhengting takes a short breath, his voice slightly hoarse. “For Victoria’s sake,” he hisses, “I’m not going to do anything else to you.” He sees Junjie swallow. Good. “But never, ever, _ever_ think that anything you’ve done for Justin has made him happy. There’s so many things that you’ve said that are so utterly incorrect, but that is the single wrongest statement I’ve heard _in my entire life_.”

And then in the period of a breath, Zhengting releases Junjie, dropping him to the floor.

Junjie scrambles to his feet. “ _You_ ,” he growls, pointing at Zhengting, his hand shaking. “I could sue you for what you’ve just done.”

Zhengting’s insides are crawling with apprehension. He can’t move any further, because Victoria still has an iron grip on his right arm, pinned behind his back. “Only if you can prove it,” he taunts.

Junjie rolls his eyes. “Are you challenging me?” He narrows his eyes, and then points at Victoria. “ _Victoria_ ,” he says. For some reason, the tone of his voice seems to have slightly changed. Zhengting can’t tell in what direction it went, softer or harsher, but there’s just a shift that he can detect. “Control your little pet. At first, I thought he was just yapping his head off, all bark and no bite, but I guess he’s a little more vicious than I assumed.” A smile crawls onto Junjie’s lips, and he shrugs. “You should really be careful. Who knows what he could do to you--”

The pressure on Zhengting’s right arm is released, and before anyone realizes what's happened, there’s a sharp _slap_ resounding in the air.

Zhengting freezes.

Victoria is leaning forward, one of her hands still poised in the air. Junjie’s face is turned, the cheek on the same side that Zhengting had punched him quickly turning scarlet.

“...What the hell?” he murmurs, when he turns back, staring at Victoria. If anything, his surprise is mostly the confused kind of surprise.

“You act like a dog, you speak like a dog, you think like a dog,” Victoria growls, her voice low, “therefore, I treat you like a dog.”

Junjie retracts just slightly, yet the look on his face remains constant.

“Leave,” Victoria commands, her tone icier than ever, “leave before I do something that both you and I will regret.”

Junjie takes a step back. “Fine,” he complies, although his voice is still as arrogant as ever, “I should have never come to you in the first place. I should have just taken my own--”

“ _Leave_ ,” Victoria repeats.

Junjie turns and haughtily walks off.

And then when Victoria pulls Zhengting back into the apartment with her, she leans against him, her forehead against his chest.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers. “Zhengting, I don’t-- I don’t-- I can’t hide Minghao from him forever. He still has to go outside, he still has to go to school, he still has his friends that he needs to see--”

Zhengting places a hand on her head, gently. He’s still shaking a little bit, the adrenaline still making its way through his veins. “You can’t bubble him,” he murmurs, “but that doesn’t mean that you can’t bubble your ex-husband.”

“...What?” Victoria replies. She lifts her head, looking at him curiously.

“He’s been suffocating you, Victoria,” Zhengting says, grimacing. “There was nothing more that I wanted to do at that moment than make him feel exactly what you’ve been feeling all these years. Suffocated, stuck, isolated. I want to _strangle_ him.”

Victoria’s eyes slightly widen. “Zhengting, don’t give yourself any ideas--”

Zhengting hurriedly shakes his head. “I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, pursing his lips. “But Victoria, that doesn’t mean that you can’t mentally strangle him. He twists your words, he plays all those nasty mind games with you just to emotionally agitate you so he gets what he wants. A person who exploits others’ weaknesses has as many weaknesses himself as his victims. So, find one of his weaknesses. Find something that makes him go crazy, and twist it.”

Victoria closes her eyes for a moment, furrowing her brows. “Okay,” she whispers, after a moment. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Zhengting sighs, resting his chin on her head, pulling her closer. “He disgusts me,” he murmurs, and he feels Victoria nod. “Sometimes the easiest way to remove dirt is to use dirt itself.”

Victoria nods again. Her fists are gripping into Zhengting’s shirt, her palms sweaty, dampening the cloth there. Zhengting can’t tell if it’s just solely her palms, or there’s tears too, since she refuses to look up at him.

But one thing he does know, one thing he does feel, is that the dampness is right over his heart. It only fuels the fire in his chest.

* * *

Justin lays his head on a pillow leaning against the armrest of the couch. His calves are thrown over Zhengting's thighs as he casually watches TV with his face turned.

“Why do you feel the need to put your feet on me?” Zhengting asks, sighing.

Justin giggles. “It's comfortable.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says, balancing a bag of oyster crackers on the boy's shins.

Several minutes into whatever mundane sitcom is airing, Zhengting suddenly asks, “If it's not a touchy subject, can I ask you about your dad?”

“Sure,” Justin hums without hesitation.

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, not expecting such a fast reply. “Okay. Do you, uh, love him?”

Justin turns his head and looks at Zhengting oddly. “I don't know,” he replies, after a pause. “He's my dad, but at this point in my life he might as well be a stranger to me.”

“Didn't you spend time with him when you were little?”

Justin shrugs. “Yeah, when I was like, five or six.”

“Then did you love him then?”

“I guess.”

“Did he make you happy?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Justin narrows his eyes.

Zhengting takes a breath. What is he supposed to say? “...I was just curious,” he murmurs, “since I hardly know anything about him.” _Besides the fact that he's an asshole and I want to strangle him._

Justin remains silent, staring suspiciously as he contemplates Zhengting's answer. “...I don't know,” he replies, quietly, after a few seconds. “It was so long ago, it's hard for me to remember.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. “Oh, alright.” He reaches into his bag of oyster crackers, pulling out another small handful and chewing thoughtfully. Justin turns his face back to the TV, thinking that their conversation had ended.

But Zhengting asks, after swallowing, “Are you happy now?”

Justin looks at him, an eyebrow raised. He laughs, softly, his fingers curling over his lips. “Of course,” he replies, simply.

“Okay,” Zhengting murmurs. That's all he needed to hear.

* * *

Victoria was always one to spend the majority of her time shut inside her room, sitting at her desk and staring at her computer whenever she was home.

But, as of lately, Zhengting feels like she’s suddenly become a ghost -- he hardly sees her face at all in the time he spends in her home. And when she does make an appearance, it’s characterized by fidgety pacing and an extremely eerie, unsettling kind of absent-mindedness.

Zhengting knows why she’s all of a sudden so off. The pertinence of the situation, the unknowingness, the caution, the apprehension and fear.

He feels it too, those unnerving emotions. He can only wake up every day and hope that Victoria has found some magical solution. She’s smart, conniving, resourceful, and Zhengting trusts that with all his might.

And not to mention, Junjie is such a nasty person. So Zhengting is entirely caught off-guard when Victoria asks to see him in her room, and sits down next to him, before whispering, her voice tired and hoarse, “He’s perfect.”

She bites her lip, looking up at him, her eyes shining, and adds, “There’s nothing wrong with him. He has no guilt. No shame.” And then she sighs, leaning over onto his shoulder. “That’s why he can say things like that so freely and not care. He hasn’t been married since we were divorced, he doesn’t have a criminal record, his business has never been compromised by the government, and his fiancee and her son even claim that they _actually do love him_.”

She holds onto him, her fingers digging into his arm almost painfully so. Her voice is thin, almost hiss-like, as she whispers, “What am I going to do?”

And then she throws her head back and laughs sharply, the sound so harsh and jarring in his ears, “You told me that Minghao loves me more than I know. I believe you, Zhengting, but is it so wrong for me to doubt that love? Is it? Why is it so impossibly hard for me to trust him? Why is it so hard for me to trust _myself_? Why is it so hard for me to trust that things will be okay in the future?”

She ducks her head, holding up her free palm to her eyes, and answers her own question. “I just simply can’t. I can’t trust anyone, not even myself. So, what am I going to do?”

Zhengting wraps his arms around her, pressing her head against his shoulder, running his fingers through her hair. “He’s happy,” he whispers, “maybe you can’t trust yourself, maybe you can’t trust him, but he’s _happy_. Let that bring you a little bit of faith.”

Victoria laughs into his shoulder. She doesn’t need to know exactly who Zhengting is referring to, as the sound of her laughter is stuttering, almost as if she were coughing.

* * *

Oddly enough, a week later, Victoria has become less fidgety, less nervous, less visibly exhausted, which is wonderful, Zhengting thinks.

But the startling thing to him is that those emotions have been replaced with a combination of things that make Victoria seem vaguely statue-like -- as if she’s suddenly built up a defensive wall of resolve as high as the sky, as if she’s suddenly come to accept some some tragedy in the future.

And that’s what Zhengting thinks has happened.

He stares at her worriedly, barely able to imagine the kind of turmoil that’s going on in her mind and her heart.

Justin even picks up on his mother’s uneasiness. He asks Zhengting what’s going on one night.

“Nothing,” Zhengting simply replies, avoiding Justin’s gaze.

The boy scoffs. “Sure,” he replies. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Zhengting replies, again.

Justin crawls over from his end of the couch. Zhengting feels the spot next to him dip, but he doesn’t bother to turn his head. He expects Justin to say something, to try to pry more, but there’s complete silence for several long seconds.

And then when Zhengting turns his head curiously, he sees Justin sitting on his heels, his palms placed between his knees as he leans forward and stares at Zhengting suspiciously.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and crosses his arms. “I’ve noticed how often my mom asks to speak with you privately. I’ve noticed how sad you both look when you guys walk out of her room. I didn’t think it was something super important, like maybe you guys were discussing her business or something. But now, now I regret not eavesdropping.”

Zhengting almost laughs. What kind of a statement is that?

And then Justin leans closer when there’s nothing but silence. “Do I need to seriously coax it out of you?” he asks, his tone and expression both completely serious.

Zhengting snorts. “You can go ahead and try,” he retorts, turning his head back to the TV screen. “It’s not going to work.”

“So, you do admit that there’s something going on,” Justin says, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

Zhengting ignores his statement and nonchalantly changes his sitting position, uncrossing his legs.

Bad idea, he realizes, because that gives Justin an opportunity to throw his left leg over his knees, his other leg folded beneath him as he sits and places his hands on Zhengting’s shoulder.

“ _Please_ ,” he pleads, putting on his sappy, pity-vying voice, “don’t lie to me.”

Zhengting’s face instantly scrunches up. Without even looking at Justin, he raises his hand and flicks the boy on his forehead with as much force as he can put in two fingers.

* * *

On an evening a few days later, Zhengting is looking around in Victoria's cupboards for another canister of tea since the one he previously used is now empty. He pulls out a clear plastic jar that looks like it's been unopened. It appears to contain some kind of dried flower, the buds inside shriveled but still pink. Zhengting thought that they might've been dried rosebuds at first, but when he turns the jar around and reads the label, it's something he's never heard of before.

 _Zi shan_ , he reads. Purple fir? He has no clue what that is. What kind of a fir is purple? And then turning around the jar again, there's no other writing that might indicate its uses or benefits.

At that moment, Victoria walls into the kitchen. She sees what he's holding, and hastily asks, “What are you doing?”

“Was looking for another canister of tea,” Zhengting replies. He turns, holding up the jar in his hand. “What's _'zi shan’_?”

Without a word, Victoria grabs the jar out of his hand. “Don't brew that,” she says, casually. “There should be another canister in the cupboard two down.”

And then she walks away, the jar still in her hand.

He watches her back disappear, his movements paused. _That was odd_ , he thinks, but he shrugs it off and opens the cupboard Victoria mentioned. He finds what he's looking for, and he forgets he even found a jar of _zi shan_ in the first place.

* * *

Victoria tells him she's inviting her ex-husband to have dinner with them on Saturday.

“ _What_?” Zhengting exclaims, incredulously. “Isn't that the _complete opposite_ of what you were trying to do? Isn't that exactly what he wants?”

“Minghao won't be home, I'll be dropping him off at Sicheng's house in the afternoon,” Victoria says, casually. “And besides, I figured it's time we had a talk...that doesn't end with somebody being punched in the face.” She stares at Zhengting pointedly.

“Or slapped, too,” Zhengting replies, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Why are you all of a sudden intent on being nice to him?”

Victoria huffs, exasperated. “Just trust me,” she says, quietly. “It's just an option that I think might yield a result.”

 _Because there's basically no other choice,_ Zhengting can hear her silently add. He nods, understanding her words, and she walks away a moment later.

And then on Saturday, when Zhengting opens the door with a highly uncomfortable expression on his face, Junjie rolls his eyes at him. “You again,” he says, “of course. Should have expected Victoria wouldn't speak to me one-on-one.”

“Be polite, Junjie,” Victoria chides, approaching the door. “Come inside,” she says, “the food is almost done.”

Junjie brushes past Zhengting without another word. Zhengting stares at him, the expression on his face still one of disgust, and closes the door.

Not wanting to have to sit around and make small talk with Junjie, he wanders over to Victoria and asks her if she needs help.

“No,” she instantly replies, and waves him off.

So Zhengting just takes a seat on the couch, away from Junjie sitting at the dining table, and occupies himself with his phone.

Victoria calls him over to eat about ten or so minutes later. She walks over to the table with a large bowl in each hand, placing one in front of each man.

There's rice, Zhengting can see, but there's also some kind of half-dish, half-sauce poured over it. He sees mushroom, eggplant, tomato, and potato.

Victoria turns away without a word, heading back to the kitchen.

Zhengting curiously wonders why she didn't just make a bowl of the sauce and have them scoop it into their own bowls like they normally would, but he doesn't bother to ask since it's such a minor detail.

Victoria returns with a bok choy dish in her hands, placing it down on the table.

“Ah, beautiful,” Junjie comments. “Wherever did you learn how to cook?”

“Practice,” Victoria replies, simply. “It's been over ten years, Junjie. Don't expect me to have learned nothing.”

Junjie shrugs. “I suppose,” he murmurs, before grabbing at the food with his chopsticks. He eats, contentedly, and hums when Victoria brings one last dish and her own bowl of rice before sitting down at the table.

Zhengting eats, chewing slowly as he side-eyes Junjie. The latter doesn't seem to notice Zhengting's glare, or if he does, he doesn't pay him any heed.

After a couple of minutes of silent chewing, Victoria breaks the tension by asking, “What have you been up to these past years?”

“Same as always,” Junjie replies, simply. “We’ve opened up factories in a dozen different provinces now. It's great.”

Victoria nods slowly at his response. She remains silent, grabbing more food from a dish.

“How about you?” Junjie asks.

“You know that I had set up a business,” Victoria begins.

“And you were struggling when I saw you those few years after our divorce,” Junjie points out.

Zhengting bites his tongue. What kind of person mentions that?

Victoria sighs. “Yes, but do I look like that now?”

“No.” Junjie shrugs.

“Just like you, my business has expanded too,” Victoria continues. “That is why I was in Singapore. For business.”

“Figured so,” Junjie replies.

The rest of dinner is uncomfortably quiet. Zhengting can tell Victoria is trying her best to prevent the mood from going sour, and she just barely succeeds. Zhengting remains silent, because he figures he should shut his mouth in order to prevent himself from saying anything incriminating.

Victoria clears the dishes when they are done eating and brings back three wine glasses. “Would you like some wine?” she asks.

Junjie nods. “Just one glass,” he says.

“And you?” Victoria adds, turning to Zhengting.

“Sure,” Zhengting replies.

“Ah, so he is old enough to drink,” Junjie notes, with a smile.

“Do I look like a teenager to you?” Zhengting asks, narrowing his eyes. “I am twenty-three, for pete's sake.”

Junjie whistles. “Ah, Victoria, he's so young,” he comments. “He’s basically our son's age, isn't he?”

Zhengting winces. _Don't even remind me,_ he thinks.

Junjie notices his reaction, and he chuckles. “How'd you pick up such a youngster in the first place, hmm?” he asks, looking at Zhengting intently as Victoria pours wine in his glass. “He’s a complete deviation from me.”

Zhengting glares, his hands automatically balling into fists beneath the table. Victoria looks at him pointedly and slightly raises her eyebrows. _Play along and play nice_ , her stare says.

Zhengting sighs. “My name,” he begins, exasperated, “is Zhu Zhengting. You can now stop referring to me as 'he’ or 'you’.”

Junjie smiles slowly as he takes a sip of his wine. “Huang Junjie,” he introduces, “but you've probably figured that out already.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. Yeah, for sure. He immediately reaches for his wine when Victoria finishes pouring, because he will most definitely need alcohol in his system if Junjie keeps it up.

“I would ask why in the world Victoria decided to choose you,” Junjie hums. “You're a student, aren't you?”

Zhengting nods, slightly.

“Ah, how young,” Junjie comments, laughing. “I can't remember when I was in school.” He leans forward, resting on his elbows. “But you're quite the looker, Zhu Zhengting. My ex-wife may have divorced me before I even thought about divorcing her, but she's never lost her good eye all these years.”

Zhengting turns his head and looks at Victoria, frowning. She shrugs, avoiding his gaze.

“You might even be arguably just as handsome as my little Justin,” Junjie adds. He takes another sip of wine and sets down his glass. “By the way, about him. Was I not invited here to discuss the course of his future?”

“Yes,” Victoria responds, quietly. “She looks up at Junjie, holding her glass in front of her lips. “I've decided that you can just go ahead and see him.”

“ _What_?” Zhengting exclaims. He nearly slams his glass into the table.

Junjie laughs. “Wonderful,” he says. “That was a fast conclusion.”

“What the _hell_ , Victoria?” Zhengting asks, staring at her with a mix of incredulity and irritation.

“Now, that's no way to speak to your girlfriend,” Junjie chides. “Respect the women in your household, especially if she's making the money.” Zhengting begins to growl. _The nerve of this man_ , he thinks.

“And besides, why do you care so much? It's not like he's your son. I'd expect you to dislike him if anything, since you two are so close in age,” Junjie notes.

“That is absolutely none of your concern,” Zhengting retorts. He aggressively downs the rest of his wine.

“I'm just very tired,” Victoria says, quietly.

Zhengting instantly turns his head, narrowing his eyes at her. He wants to shake some sense into her -- and why the hell did she not consult him beforehand? But at that moment, she looks truly _tired_.

“I'm glad you came to your senses quickly, Victoria,” Junjie says, smiling. “Thank you.”

Victoria sighs, leaning her cheek against her palm. “Whatever,” she replies. “You can come see Minghao next weekend if you'd like.”

“Wonderful,” Junjie comments. “It's settled then.” He drinks the rest of his wine and sets down the glass carefully. “Thank you for the lovely meal,” he says. “If you do not mind, I will take my leave now. I'm feeling a little bit tired, and it would be best I drive back to my hotel before it becomes dark.”

“Of course,” Victoria replies, casually. Zhengting watches as she and Junjie stand up. She leads him to the door, and Zhengting is still sitting there at the dining table, staring critically.

“It was nice to finally know your name, Zhu Zhengting,” Junjie says, as he shrugs on his jacket, smiling at Zhengting.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Alright,” he replies.

Victoria sighs. “Be careful on the road,” she tells Junjie. “It would be unfortunate if something were to happen.”

Junjie nods. “Thank you,” he replies. “I will see you next week, Victoria.” He smiles, looking over her shoulder, “And presumably you too, Zhu Zhengting.”

Zhengting sighs. “Okay,” he says, lifting up his hand in a half-hearted wave.

Junjie laughs as he steps out the door. Victoria closes it behind her and leans against it, closing her eyes for a moment as she takes deep breaths.

“Seriously, Victoria, _what the hell_?” Zhengting asks. He crosses his arms. “You could have at least consulted me beforehand. At this point, I care about Justin just as much as you do.”

Victoria closes her eyes again. She sighs, before quietly saying, “Everything will be okay. It will be. Zhengting, believe me.”

“Okay, I can believe that, but what in the world is going on with you?” Zhengting replies. “Just a few days ago you were so intent on keeping Justin away--”

Victoria looks at him, her expression desperate. “ _Please,_ ” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

Zhengting shuts his mouth. “Okay,” he replies, after a moment, “okay.”

Victoria walks away without another word, the sound of her slippers against the carpet quiet and lonely.

* * *

Zhengting makes a random garbled noise as yet another shopping bag is thrown into his arms. Victoria ignores him, motioning for her son to come over to her as she's found something interesting on another rack. Zhengting makes another noise, and the sales associate standing behind the register looks at him with pity.

“Why am I the mule?” he asks, ambling over to where the two are flipping through hangers. “And you already purchased something here, so can we please move on?”

Victoria tsks at him. “Be patient,” she says, and then looks up and smiles. “You're the older male, so you are the designated bag carrier. And, some of these things are yours.”

Zhengting sighs. “Whatever,” he murmurs, standing there with his elbows bent and bags hanging off of each arm.

Justin giggles when he walks up to him, holding a pair of pants up against his legs.

“I don't need more pants,” Zhengting pointedly says.

“Yes, you do,” Justin replies. “All your pants are different variations of jeans, and all except one of them are some shade of blue.”

“Take his word,” Victoria hums. “You're going to be a working professional soon, and that means you should dress nicely.”

“What's the point if I'm wearing a lab coat over it anyways?” Zhengting asks, sighing.

“Would you rather I buy you a nice lab coat, then?” Victoria replies, casually.

Zhengting makes an exasperated noise, turning around in a circle in his spot as he waits for the mother and her son to finish looking at whatever their interest is on at the moment. He himself has little say in where they go, even though part of the reason Victoria dragged him out with her was to buy him things to make up for such a shitty birthday he had and the fact that she’d been so occupied with her own problems that she hadn't even had the time to think about him at all.

Zhengting doesn't care a spectacular amount about his wardrobe, but he always appreciates himself more when he dresses nicer, so he just grumbles and carries on with being Victoria and Justin's shopping assistant.

And anyways, this gives him a chance to inwardly enjoy when Justin wanders over to where he's sitting in the fitting room and asks if he looks nice.

 _Always,_ Zhengting thinks, because the boy always looks good and he always wears things that looks good. Or, maybe Zhengting just has his infatuation goggles on and thinks Justin is good in general.

It's a real test for his self-discipline, he realizes. It's not a hugely difficult challenge, but it's not easy either.

The amount of times Justin walks out with a shirt on that Zhengting thinks hangs just a little bit too low makes him want to cry.

All at once, he wants to say, “You look great,” and “That’s a little inappropriate,” and ask, “Are you trying to tempt me?” and “Do you want to eat more for dinner?”

And then Justin walks out wearing one of those V-neck button-ups that have a little collar thing attached to it that's now in fashion and Zhengting buries his face in his hands, thinking both “The amount of things I want to do to him now,” and “He must really be trying to tempt me, that hypocrite.”

Zhengting really, really thinks Justin is tempting him even though it goes against the rules they set when the boy asks him to help zip up a shirt. But then Zhengting thinks that maybe he's overreacting, because how can Justin reach behind his own back and get the zipper up by himself?

And then Zhengting confirms he's overreacting when Justin makes him try on just as suggestive pieces of clothing, because if Zhengting is tempted, then Justin would be too, right?

He's so confused that for the rest of the time he's stuck in a mild daze, following the other two without many comments and questions.

He becomes so dazed that when all three stop by a restaurant for dinner and Zhengting orders himself a beef dish, he instinctively starts piling some of it onto Justin's plate and doesn't notice until someone grabs his wrist in mid-air.

“I like beef as much as you do, and I know you think I'm kinda thin, but seriously, you ordered it so _you_ should be eating it,” Justin says.

“...Oh,” Zhengting murmurs, blinking.

Victoria laughs from across the table. She leans over and takes a few pieces of beef out of Justin's plate. “If both of you won't eat it, then I will,” she says, casually.

Zhengting opens his mouth. “N-No,” he stutters, before shoving food into his mouth. “I’ll eat, I'll eat.”

Victoria smiles sweetly at him, chewing happily.

* * *

“Hey Xuanyi,” Zhengting begins, looking up from his phone.

“Hmm?” Xuanyi replies, still staring at her computer monitor.

“Since you’re a biology teacher, do you know anything about plants?” Zhengting asks.

Xuanyi hums. “Not really,” she replies, before adding, “although my father used to work in a traditional medicine shop. If you ask me how to properly cook red ginseng and chrysanthemum and what health benefits those two herbs give, then yes, I know. But if you ask me to name their species and whatnot, I have no clue.”

“Fair enough,” Zhengting notes. “Do you know what _zi shan_ is? I’ve never seen a fir that’s purple.”

Xuanyi begins giggling at his statement. “It’s not a purple fir, silly,” she says, “although the literal meaning of its name is that. It’s a tree or a shrub plant. They call them _yew_ over in the West.”

“Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. “Do you know its medicinal benefits?”

Xuanyi nods. “Well, it’s a plant that is both beneficial and not at all depending on how you use it,” she replies.

Zhengting tilts his head in confusion, and Xuanyi quickly clarifies. “My father told me that some Western scientists found some compound in it that could help fight cancer,” she notes.

Zhengting furrows his eyebrows. Why in the world would Victoria need a plant that fights cancer? He’s quite sure she doesn’t _have_ cancer, because he knows she’s not stupid enough to rely solely on traditional medicine for an illness that’s extremely dangerous.

“That’s cool,” he comments.

Xuanyi nods. “But traditionally, well, traditionally it’s not exactly used for that. You see, the whole plant except for the meat from its berries is poisonous.”

“...What?” Zhengting murmurs.

“Like, if you swallow enough of the seeds or the leaves you’ll die.” Xuanyi shrugs. “I don’t know specifics about it, but I remember my father telling me that if you ate something poisonous, then you would chew a yew leaf, but not swallow it. The pulp would induce vomiting, so you’d throw up whatever bad thing you ate. But then, if you actually _eat_ the leaf or the seed, then that’s just poison itself.”

“...Oh,” Zhengting murmurs. He remembers holding up the jar of yew and seeing that it contained a dried up plant that looked like rosebuds to him. He figures that it might be the dried berries. There were also bits of green inside the jar, but they didn’t appear to be full-sized leaves, and he doesn’t recall if he noticed any seeds or not. “Are there any benefits from the berries?”

Xuanyi shrugs. “Don’t know,” she says. “No one ever talks about the berries since a lot of the focus on the plant is that it’s poisonous.”

“Alright,” Zhengting replies. “Thanks for telling me.”

Xuanyi smiles. “No problem,” she says, happily. “Why’d you want to know, anyways?”

Zhengting pauses. “Uh,” he begins, “I just saw the word somewhere.”

“Oh,” Xuanyi hums. “Well, now you know to not eat yew leaves or seeds in the future.”

Zhengting nods. What could Victoria possibly want from a plant that’s poisonous? He shrugs the second after asking himself that, because he figures since the majority of the yew inside the jar were the berries, she might as well have wanted them for whatever benefit they give that Xuanyi doesn’t know.

* * *

When Friday comes, Zhengting asks Victoria when Junjie will come over to talk to his son.

Victoria just shrugs. “I don’t know,” she replies, simply.

“You _don’t know_?” Zhengting asks.

“No,” Victoria says. “He never contacted me after that.”

Zhengting raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t that problematic?” he replies. “That sounds to me like that man is planning something that I don’t like.”

Victoria laughs at his response. “Maybe,” she murmurs. “That definitely sounds like something he’d do.” She sighs, before looking up at Zhengting.

Zhengting’s breath catches in his throat. Victoria looks at him a little oddly. He would choose to describe her expression as “sad”, but simultaneously, she’s not so much “sad”... it’s the kind of expression a person would have after finally being able to move from some kind of tragedy. Where Victoria a couple of weeks ago had accepted a tragedy, it appears that now she’s slowly moving on from it.

“He’s that type of person. The type of person that always premeditates his actions, devises elaborate plans to make thing things will go his way. That’s why he’s such a successful businessman. He’s cunning, he’s sly, he’s prepared, and most importantly of all, he’s downright intelligent. And that’s why it’s so hard to outsmart him, almost impossible to beat him at his own game.”

A small smile appears on Victoria’s lips. Zhengting tilts his head curiously, because he doesn’t understand why Victoria would be smiling.

“I’m still waiting for that day where someone can do that,” Victoria murmurs. “I’m waiting for the day where someone who’s more clever than him appears.” She pauses. “Actually, no, not clever. More like _slyer._ He’s extremely smart, but that doesn’t mean an animal can’t outdo a human. Because even though we’re supposedly the most intelligent beings in this world, humans are still humans, and we lack foresight and skill in areas that animals excel at.”

“...What?” Zhengting asks, blinking in confusion.

Victoria chuckles softly at his reaction. She reaches out, running her hand up and down his arm reassuringly, before giving him one last smile and walking away.


	13. 淘

**淘:** _In good sense, many of us try to cleanse our faults, but just like the ridges and rise of a mountain, they'll always be there._

* * *

Oddly enough, even though Zhengting anticipates some sort of new development from either Victoria or Justin, Junjie just seems to have… quieted. Or, maybe he’s biding his time, Zhengting thinks.

He asks Victoria constantly if she’s heard from him. She’ll shake her head, say no, and then mutter, “Thank goodness.” Zhengting doesn’t know how in the world she’s not as apprehensive as he is about the situation. He constantly wonders about this one piece of information. It doesn’t exactly hit him for a while, because he’s distracted with things like presentations, finals preparations (even though exams are a month or so away, he thinks, but his professors are pushing all of them for review _now_ ), Seunghyuk taking him out drinking like he’d promised, Hyeongseop’s non-stop crying even though it’s already been some time since Seunghyuk moved, and Justin draping himself over him and cuddling up at his side in a way that probably looks suspicious to everyone but the boy himself.

When he and Justin are watching yet another TV show (this time something Korean, as Justin wanted to see the original _Hyori’s Bed and Breakfast_ instead of the Chinese rip-off), Zhengting nonchalantly coughs out, “Has your father contacted you recently?”

Justin looks at him strangely. “Uh, did you just ask if my dad has contacted me recently?”

Zhengting nods slightly.

Justin shakes his head. “Uh, no, but why?”

Zhengting doesn’t reply. He stares straight ahead at the TV.

“Seriously, Zhengting, what is going on?” Justin asks. He crosses his arms, turning and staring at Zhengting. “I know something’s been going on for a long time. I first told you, but you were so stubborn on telling me nothing that you even _hit me in the face_ \--”

“I didn’t hit you!” Zhengting exclaims, incredulously. “I simply flicked you.”

Justin sighs. “Whatever, but it _hurt._ I can still feel the pain now.” He pouts, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows with his palm.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Zhengting retorts. But then a smile appears on his lips the second after, and then he places his palms on Justin’s cheeks. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

Justin pushes his hands away, looking positively annoyed at Zhengting’s attempt of being cute. “That’s not the point!” he protests.

Zhengting laughs and still does so anyways. Justin makes an exasperated noise, but he doesn’t push Zhengting away again. “Seriously,” he mutters, when Zhengting lets go of his face, “I’m not oblivious. This all has to do with my dad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Zhengting simply replies. “I told you before, it’s nothing.”

“Then why are you suddenly asking about him? What trouble is he causing?” Justin asks.

“Why would you assume he’s causing trouble?” Zhengting replies. He raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what you think of him,” Justin begins, slowly. “But I know you probably don’t have a favorable opinion of him because of how his and my mom’s relationship was. I know she doesn’t like him, and since you’re one of her closest friends, you probably don’t like him too, even though you might’ve never met him.” He sighs, leaning over to his side, crossing his arms. “You’ve been asking about him recently. You asked me if I loved him, if he made me happy. Those are all very objective questions, Zhengting, and combined with the fact that my mom and you have been much more serious than anything recently, that leads me to believe that he’s causing you guys some trouble.”

Zhengting swallows. Justin is physically and emotionally a kid, and Zhengting has gotten so… _accustomed_ to thinking like that, because for a while, that’s been the only thing about Justin that he’s been focusing on besides his own little nagging guilt -- he’s young, naive, ignorant in some ways, but Zhengting has forgotten the fact that there’s a side of him that’s also simultaneously way more observant, way more clever, way more unsettlingly matured than anyone Zhengting can compare him to, besides possibly his own mother.

He’s a coin of many faces. But at the moment, Zhengting feels like he’s closer to a dual-edged sword.

“I assure you,” Zhengting begins, softly, “there’s nothing going on.”

Justin huffs. “Why are you still trying to push that answer on me?” he asks, an edge of irritation peeking through his tone.

“Because it’s true,” Zhengting replies, immediately. He hears Justin begin to speak in protest, but he interrupts him. “What Victoria and I were talking about has to do with my family, not yours. I just simply asked you about your dad because I was curious on how the relationships in your family are so different from mine.”

Justin shuts his mouth. He gulps, his eyes slightly wide. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

Zhengting smiles, gently. “It’s okay,” he replies, simply. “It’s nothing that you have to worry about.”

But Justin shakes his head the moment after. “It is,” he says. “If it has to do with you, then I have a right to worry.” He leans forward, placing his chin on Zhengting’s shoulder. “If you worry,” he begins, quietly, “then I worry too.”

Zhengting sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He grabs Justin’s hands with his own and turns his face, leaning his forehead forward so it touches Justin’s.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, a small smile on his face. And then he presses a short, gentle kiss to Justin’s lips.

Justin smiles back at him, his voice on the edge of laughter. “Of course,” he replies.

Zhengting sighs, leaning back. “I assure you, it’s nothing too important,” he states. “I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be as well.”

There’s silence for a moment as Justin considers his words. “...You probably know this already, but I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, I do know that.”

“And this won’t be the last time I’m going to pressure you about getting an answer.”

“I know that too.” Zhengting takes a deep breath. Although he does get a little bit annoyed by Justin’s prying, he hopes he won’t have to lose this aspect of his life any time soon.

* * *

The next evening, Zhengting is sitting with his laptop, alone, in his apartment. He’s procrastinating on yet another assignment, which he knows he really shouldn’t be doing since it’s the last quarter before finals, but he’s currently suffering from something called senioritis.

His phone, sitting next to him, lights up with a message from Victoria.

_I hope you’re having a good evening. My assistant just messaged me, and we’re looking at working with several large clothing distributors in Thailand and the Philippines. If all goes well, I’ll have to travel there for anywhere between a week to a full month. Just wanted to give you a heads up._

_No problem_ , Zhengting replies, _thank you! I hope everything goes well!_

Looking at the picture of Victoria’s smiling face on his texting app, he’s reminded of Junjie.

 _Ah_ , Junjie. Where did he go?

Because Zhengting really doesn’t want to do more of his lab analysis, he searches Junjie’s name in Baidu out of curiosity.

 _Huang Junjie_ , he types. He’s not sure which characters to type for _Junjie_ , so he punches in random ones and hopes the search engine gives him the right results.

Well, he used the wrong characters, but after clicking on the first suggested search term revision, he’s brought to a page of results that’s clearly about Junjie.

The little box that shows up at the top of his screen displays all the basic information about Junjie pulled from Baidu’s encyclopedia.

_Name: Huang Junjie_

_Birthday: 1975, November 2nd_

_Introduction: Founder and owner of Huangjie Manufacturing Services, Co. Huang Junjie graduated from Beijing University with a major in business communications…_

Zhengting sighs. Whatever. He looks past, scrolling down and staring at the links that pop up. Right underneath the info box, there’s a bunch of photos of Junjie. Zhengting grimaces. The bastard looks good in every one, and Zhengting feels the need to punch his screen, so he quickly moves past that.

And then, right beneath the photos, are a bunch of news links with Junjie’s name in them.

_Huang Junjie’s condition stabilized, expected to be released from hospital later…_

_Friends and family of Huang Junjie arrive at Tiantan Puhua as they…_

_Guan Puyi to take over Huangjie Manufacturing Services as CEO and founder Huang Junjie…_

...What? Zhengting blinks, surprised. All the articles are from the past few weeks, with the most recent being from yesterday. He clicks on the first one out of curiosity, and what appears is a section of text that is an update of an existing story. He clicks the link to the full story, and begins to skim, his gaze quickly moving back and forth across the screen.

On the first section of the article, he sees the words, _Huang, Junjie, April 26th, car, accident, highway, crash, fatal_.

On the second section of the article, he sees the words, _critical, hospital, condition, worry, glass, puncture, blind._

On the third section of the article, he sees the words, _stable, rest, condition, friends, recover, sight._

On the fourth section of the article, he sees the words, _cause, diagnosis, unconfirmed, alcohol, medication, heartbeat, control_.

On the fifth section of the article, he sees the words, _released, good, healthy, recovered, loss, permanent, blind, damage._

Zhengting stops his scrolling, both because there’s no further updates and because what he’s read sends him reeling.

On the night Junjie had dinner at Victoria’s apartment, he’d been involved in an accident on the highway as he was driving back. A passenger in the other car had been killed, and Junjie himself was put in critical condition. A piece of glass had punctured through both the side of one of his temples and the back of his eye, and removal of it had rendered him permanently blind in that eye. The cause of crash was thought to be because Junjie lost control of his car, but the exact reason why he lost control is unknown. It is speculated to have been an interaction between alcohol and a medication for heartburn he took, which caused shaky hands and a rapid heartbeat.

And the most recent update states that he is healthy and recovered, and that he is expected to be released back to his family within the next couple of weeks.

Zhengting takes a deep breath. Did Victoria know anything about this? If she did, why didn’t she say anything to him?

With shaky hands, Zhengting picks up his phone and texts her, asking her if she knew. There’s no reply within several minutes, and Zhengting decides he might as well just go up to her apartment and knock.

Victoria greets him, curiously asking why he’s there, but he just hastily says he has something important to say, his hands waving back and forth. Victoria sees his slightly alarmed actions, and she quickly lets him inside, where he follows her to her room and shuts the door behind him.

“I just found out about your ex-husband and the crash after he left your place,” Zhengting says, pursing his lips. “Did you know anything about this?”

Victoria stays oddly silent, staring at Zhengting with an unnamed expression on her face. And after several long seconds, she crosses her arms, before saying, “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“ _What_?” Zhengting exclaims, a little louder than he expected. He instantly clamps a hand over his mouth, and when he drops his arm, his next words are almost whispered. “Why in the world didn’t you say anything to me?”

Victoria turns her face, looking off to the side. “I suppose I forgot,” she replies.

“You _forgot_?” Zhengting asks, incredulously, a little bit of annoyance in his tone. “When I asked you so many damn times if you knew anything about him? Why he was staying so quiet?”

“...I didn’t know you cared so much, Zhengting,” Victoria says, calmly.

“Why would I not? For god’s sake, Victoria, he wanted to try to take _Justin_ away from you! From _me_ as well! Does that not give me a reason to care? A reason to care a whole fuck ton?” Zhengting’s breaths are rushed, his hands balled into fists at his side. He screams at himself, wondering why in the world he’s getting so agitated, angry even, at Victoria of all people.

But there’s another side of him that says he has to right to feel that way. That Victoria kept hidden a very important piece of information, a piece of information pertaining to one of the reasons why Zhengting has been so worried the past month, a piece of information pertaining to the _main_ reason why Victoria cried in his arms, why she dug her hands so forcefully into his skin as she spilled out all of her thoughts and emotions, all razor-sharp and jagged and painful.

It’s simply unbelievable.

 _That’s right_ , Zhengting realizes, he doesn’t believe her. There has to be some other reason.

And, not to mention the fact that her ex-husband is now blind in one eye and unintentionally killed someone.

“ _Victoria_ ,” Zhengting says, forcefully, his voice almost a hiss. “Not only did he accidentally _kill_ someone, but he’s now partially _blind_ as well. Those are two amazingly important things, so why would you not tell me? What are you hiding?”

Victoria sighs. She still won’t return his gaze. “Like I said, I simply forgot.”

“That’s such a lie--”

Victoria suddenly turns, and without a word, she walks out of the room, her palm forcefully slamming against the wood as she pushes the door open.

“Wait!” Zhengting cries, hurriedly jogging after her. “I’m sorr--”

And then when he rounds the corner, his eyes wide and his breaths short and shallow, he sees Justin standing there, with an expression just as panicked and just as appalled as his.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Victoria whispers to him, her hands on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s okay,” Zhengting replies, putting his hands over hers. “You’ve been really stressed, so I understand. And I have to apologize myself for overreacting--”

Victoria shakes her head, closing her eyes. “Just leave it,” she murmurs. “He won’t be bothering us anymore, and that’s what we both wanted.”

And then when Justin is tucked into his side, both of them buried under one blanket, the only light in the room coming from Zhengting’s laptop screen, Zhengting asks, “Do you care?”

Justin doesn’t need any clarification to know what he’s asking about.

“...I don’t know,” he replies, after a moment.

“Do you want to care?”

And then when Zhengting is greeted with silence, he adds, “Do you think you should care?”

“Yes.”

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“At this point, I don’t know what my true feelings are.”

Zhengting hears him take a breath.

“I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

He feels Justin press his face into the side of his torso. Zhengting reaches his hand up, stroking the boy’s hair. He had considered telling Justin about exactly what he and Victoria had been discussing before Junjie’s accident, but he quickly squashed that thought.

“Please don’t make me think about it anymore.”

His voice is slightly more pitched, muffled into the warmth of Zhengting’s flesh. Painful almost, maybe even a little bit desperate.

He cares. He cares much more than he wants to.

* * *

Zhengting never liked Victoria’s ex-husband, even wanting to go forth and kill the man when he was in his fit of rage, but that doesn’t mean that he wished such a painful outcome for him.

The only good thing that came out of the situation was the fact that Junjie would never bother them again. Or, at least Liying swore off Victoria’s whole family. She wanted nothing to do with Victoria, and Victoria wanted nothing to do with her.

Zhengting thinks it’s a little strange. Victoria never explicitly stated it, but based upon her actions the week right before the accident it seemed as if she knew that things would solve themselves. As if she knew that something would happen and her ex-husband would not bother her about Justin again.

But then Zhengting asks himself, how in the world would that be possible? It’s not like Victoria could see the future.

And then, he thinks about the other weird thing surrounding Victoria and the time around the incident. About the _zi shan_ , the yew berries. It briefly occurs to him that Victoria could’ve poisoned her ex-husband, which would align with the fact that she already poured the sauce from that fateful night’s dinner into their rice bowls instead of letting them pour it for themselves.

But then, logically that doesn’t make sense. For one, from what Zhengting read, the reason why Junjie lost control was because of the symptoms from an interaction between his medication and the alcohol, the wine, that he drank that night. And, from what Xuanyi told him, yew leaves were used to induce vomiting, which has nothing to do with a rapid heartbeat and shaky hands.

And then, Zhengting thinks, those two facts have a lot yet to be explored. It was _assumed_ that it was an interaction from medication and alcohol. Yew in general is poisonous, which leaves a whole _lot_ of other possible symptoms from consumption besides an upset stomach.

Zhengting buries his face into his pillow and silently screams. He doesn’t need any more of this. He doesn’t need another boulder to carry on his back along with the slab of iron that’s his schoolwork and the dark cloud that’s his conscious, all watching over him, silently judging with two palms pressed down on both of his shoulderblades.

Conscious, doubt, responsibility. Zhengting feels like he’s the only one carrying all of these, the only one with the dark mark on his heart that’s perpetually there no matter how much he rubs and how much he polishes.

For most people that go through a time of uncertainty, a time of difficulty, they feel like they’re the only ones with this kind of pain -- it’s them against the world.

But little do they know, little does he know, that the only thing they need to do is find one another. Sure, their struggles may be doubled in weight, but it is much more difficult to break two planks of wood stacked on top of each other than it is to snap a single in half.

That is, unless the pressure more than quadruples.

* * *

For once, things have calmed down. Zhengting doesn’t know if they’re going to stay calm, or they’re just passing through the eye of the storm.

Well, they’re as calm as they possibly can be, given the fact that there’s basically two weeks until dead week -- _finals_ week. He’s stuck running back and forth between the school and the lab, trying to complete all of his final projects and not screw them up last minute because they’re worth a good thirty or more percent of his final grade. He’s so desperate he even tries to bring up the topic of a good evaluation with Xuanyi while he slides a caramel macchiato across the desk to her, and she drinks all of it, listening to his spiel with a half-hearted interest before telling him that he really didn’t need to do that because she’s basically already submitted his evaluation anyways.

And then Zhengting is sent into a flurried panic until Xuanyi throws an apron and a pair of goggles in his face and tells him to calm down and start prepping for next period’s lab, because Zhengting had better not accidentally burn himself or else it’d be potentially difficult for him to find a job after graduation.

When Zhengting asks Chengcheng how he’s faring, Chengcheng takes his lollipop out of his mouth and gives him a thumbs up and a wide smile. Zhengting taps his friend’s toes, which are currently resting on top of his desk, and then taps the hand holding the lollipop, stating that he’s not allowed to have food or his feet up on the desk in the labs.

Chengcheng rolls his eyes. “I don’t care at this point,” he says. “Finals week and then it’s _finally fucking over_.”

Zhengting laughs at his reaction. Yes, it’s true, but how come he doesn’t feel the same? How come he feels like he’s only at the halfway mark instead of home stretch?

Chengcheng looks at his friend brooding oddly. “Man, what’s up?” he asks, taking his feet down from his desk and leaning over to stare at Zhengting, the stick of his lollipop protruding out of the side of his mouth.

“Don’t know,” Zhengting replies, shrugging. “I just constantly feel like I’m stressed, even though I’m on track to finish all my things.”

“You’d better hope that’s just you internally freaking out and not your sixth sense telling you things are going to end up in a pile of shit,” Chengcheng notes, with a stupid smile on his face.

Zhengting slaps his friend on the bicep. “Don’t jinx it!” he cries, astounded.

Chengcheng laughs, the sound like a roar. “You’ll be fine, man,” he reassures, hitting Zhengting back. “You’re such a goody two shoes, I bet you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.”

And then Zhengting throws his head back begins to laugh madly, his laughter cackle-like.

Chengcheng freezes, staring at his friend oddly. “What the hell are you laughing at?” he asks.

Zhengting can’t stop laughing. He slaps his desk, because it’s simply so hilarious. Oh, does Chengcheng know.

* * *

And then the Sunday before finals week, Zhengting is contentedly humming as he moves around his bedroom, preparing his things for the first day of his exams. Snacks, clothing, textbooks to return, pencils and paper. He mentally checks things off in his head. He’s almost made it to the end of the list when there’s a sharp knock at his door.

“Oh, hi,” he says, smiling, when he sees Victoria. But the corners of his mouth quickly fall when he sees how utterly devastated Victoria looks.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, pulling Victoria into his apartment, “what happened?” There’s already a strong sense of dread climbing up his throat, because there’s yet _another_ conflict when he thought things were going to finally be okay on the most important week of the school year.

Victoria follows him without a word. And when Zhengting seats her down on the couch next to him, he notices what’s clutched in one of her hands.

It’s the jar of dried yew berries, pink and green and shriveled.

She holds it out. “Take it,” she mutters, “I can’t be bothered to look at it anymore.”

Zhengting lets her put it in his palm. When he looks at it, it appears to be full. But when he shakes it around, there seems to be a select few berries missing.

“Victoria,” Zhengting says, quietly. “Why are you giving me these?”

“They say traditional medicine is sometimes more effective than Western practices, because in some sense it targets the spirit of the body. Your _huo_ , your _qi_. By adjusting these balances, a person can feel more mentally and physically well.” She sighs, tucking her knees up to her chest. “But I feel like these just made me worse.”

“...What?” Zhengting begins. His eyes widen. “Did you eat these?” he asks, incredulously, his voice suddenly a little louder than usual.

Victoria shakes her head. “Judging by your reaction, I assume you might know what these can do,” she murmurs. “I’m not dead, so no, I didn’t eat them. And besides, the berry meat doesn’t do humans any harm.” She grabs the jar from his hands, untwisting the cap and extracting a single dried berry.

And then she pulls it apart, tearing the shriveled pink, and removes a single golden seed.

“This,” she says, holding it up to her eye. “It’s quite a beautiful golden color, isn’t it?” She drops it into her palm. “I thought this little thing could solve all my problems.”

“...Huh?” Zhengting murmurs. He remembers telling Xuanyi that the seeds could kill a person. Victoria couldn’t be contemplating--

“They told me they could induce fear in someone,” she murmurs, staring at the seed in her hand. “They could make someone feel uncomfortable. Just one or two is enough to create a nervous, anxious, terrified kind of feeling. Like your palms sweating, your heart racing, your stomach flipping. I didn’t think they meant it _literally_.”

And then it hits Zhengting.

Shaky hands, racing heartbeat.

“I was planning to slowly give him these, make sure he felt fear every time he set foot anywhere near me or Minghao,” Victoria murmurs. “I didn’t know they could kill, both directly and indirectly.” She chuckles, softly. The sound is melancholy, a little bit angry, and very hollow. “I did feel like I wanted to kill him at one point,” she sighs. “But then I took a look at his face. And then I remembered that at one point in my life, I did love him. And he gave me the one thing I love most in the world. How can I kill a man like that?”

She unfurls the fingers curled into Zhengting’s palm and sets the seed down. “Love is such an odd feeling,” she murmurs. “I know you want to harm him, Zhengting, because you love me and you want to protect me. I wanted to harm him too, because I love Minghao. But then again, that love was once partially given to him. He once held my love in his palms and treasured it with the same amount of ferocity he treasures his business.”

Victoria looks at Zhengting, and blinks slowly. Her voice had continued to quiet as she talked. “It’s so weird. It’s supposed to be a happy emotion, but it sometimes makes you want to do unhappy things. It sometimes makes you feel unhappy because it makes you doubt.”

She rests her palm on Zhengting’s hand. “This seed, right beneath my hand,” she says, staring straight into his eyes, “think of it as my love. I used it with the intention to protect something I love by harming something that I used to love. But instead, I got more than I asked for. I harmed all three of us. Minghao, Junjie, and myself. Actually, no. I harmed all four of us. You too, Zhengting. I’m sorry for neglecting to consult you before I acted. I know how much you love Minghao. I know how much Minghao loves you. And now--” Victoria curls her fingers over Zhengting’s hand, “--I’m giving you my own double-edged blade, both because I’ve already hurt myself and others with it, and because I hope you can use it more wisely. I _trust_ you to use it more wisely.”

Zhengting puts the seed back into the jar and screws the lid back on. He sets it aside on his coffee table.

And then, the next morning, he wakes up much earlier than usual. He knocks on Victoria’s door, and when she asks why he’s there so early, he just tells her to finish her breakfast and that she’ll see.

He drives them to the southern area of the city. He leads her to the rocks. He helps her step over them carefully, one hand guiding her, the other one cradling the jar of yew berries against his torso.

And then when they both crouch down on the rocks in front of the Hai River, he unscrews the jar and turns it over.

They watch the pink and green flutter into the murky grey-blue of the water. They watch them separate and float away -- although shriveled, their colors are now vibrant against the dreary backdrop of the river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ah... I got nominated for the Wanna One Fanfiction Awards for Best Smut and Fandom's Most Loved -- even if you don't read smut, it'd be absolutely amazing if you'd vote for me [here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSd1EfuIYkdiCndvDAtWlf9vDYNS38Aj79Cmc_1NYxEYxdAZqQ/viewform)!
> 
> I'm also doing a fic giveaway where whoever guesses the closest amount of words that I write over holiday break will receive a fic from me (you choose the prompt). Link is [here](https://twitter.com/zhujungjungting/status/940469674571055104).


	14. 陟

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello sorry this being late hahahaha this whole week i've been subbing the Idol Producer introduction videos... this is my first time going CHN -> ENG (i am normally doing KR or JP -> ENG) so it's been extremely slow and i forgot about updating... forgive me
> 
> (also haha lol today is the first time this week i've woken up before 3pm... is anyone proud...)

**陟:**   _No matter what your end objective is, progress can sometimes be what matters most._

* * *

And then, because it’s finals week, Zhengting’s schedule is completely screwed over. He doesn’t have to get up until eight, which is a pretty large deviation from his normal schedule of waking up at half past six. He doesn’t have to go to the high school after his classes, because he takes exams for four hours and then gets to go home and cry because one day is over and he prays he didn’t screw up and accidentally miss a question and then now his whole bubble sheet is fucked and he just failed everything.

Victoria tells him he doesn’t have to wake up early, she can go ahead and drop Justin off at school and pick him up and Zhengting most definitely needs sleep.

Zhengting just huffs, says he’ll do it anyway, because at this point Justin is technically his responsibility too. Victoria laughs, says Zhengting isn’t Justin's mom (or dad?) and insists his only responsibilities are taking good care of himself and not failing his tests.

Well, Zhengting didn’t exactly mean Justin was his responsibility because he views himself as the kid’s parent (or at least… he doesn’t really do that at this point in their relationship). And then when he’s sitting on his couch, all alone in his apartment by himself, it suddenly hits him.

 _Oh my god_ , he thinks, _I’m dropping my boyfriend off at school._

After several weeks of intense self-loathing and another several weeks of intense denial and then another couple of weeks of saying _fuck it_ , this fact had just never occurred to him. And then, he thinks, _Does Justin even fall under the “boyfriend” category?_ He means, clearly their relationship is something… special. It’s not entirely platonic, of course, but then again Zhengting is totally unsure of what degree of romantic it is. He knows it’s not just purely physical, or else why would he even agree to the rules they’ve set up and not just find a party on campus and get drunk and have as much fun with girls as he wants? 

Zhengting doesn’t want to go into another mid-life crisis.

Or is he still in one?

He can’t stress himself out _now_ of all times.

Gripping the hair at either side of his head, he makes an exasperated noise. Maybe he shouldn’t go and drop off Justin for the rest of the week -- he only skipped Monday since he didn’t sleep early enough on Sunday night, but now he just feels very, very, very strange about the whole situation.

But Zhengting still wakes up at six-something in the morning and appears on Victoria’s doorstep with his hair sticking up on the top of his head and his voice muffled through his mask and his eyes half-open because he’s not sure if his body is deciding it’s awake or not.

“Why are you here?” Justin asks.

“How rude,” Zhengting replies, scoffing. “Just stop talking and get your backpack, let’s go.”

“My son is right, why are you here?” Victoria asks, standing at Justin’s side. “I specifically told you to sleep in and let me take care of Minghao for this week.”

“It’s fine,” Zhengting huffs. He grabs Justin’s wrist and begins to pull him out the door anyways. “I’ll see you later!” he calls out, behind him.

“Why are you doing this?” Justin asks, trying his best to resist Zhengting’s tugging, but he still stumbles out the door anyways, and Victoria sighs, shutting the door behind them because she’s too tired to argue with anyone. “Go back to sleep, you don’t need--” Justin begins.

Zhengting turns around, furrowing his brows. “Stop talking, just go along with it,” he says, and then tilts his head to the side. “You’re my--” and then he stops talking and walking, and Justin nearly runs himself into him.

“...What?” Justin asks, humming. “I’m your what? I’m not your responsibility anymore, my mom told you that.”

 _Ah,_ that word. There it is again. Zhengting thinks, maybe at one point in his life Justin was his responsibility. But now, not so much anymore. Or is he still? Zhengting decides that no, he isn’t. Because when something is someone’s responsibility, that object is seen as a chore, right? Not necessarily unenjoyable, but not enjoyable either.

“You’re not my responsibility,” Zhengting says, softly. “You’re my…” he pauses, still searching for the word.

Justin looks at him curiously. He watches Zhengting’s hesitation with his own, but then he starts laughing the next second. He inches up closer, resting his chin on Zhengting’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what I am to you, or what you’re to me either,” he says, simply, tilting his head cheekily. “But it’s okay that we both don’t know. Because we’ll both know in the future, anyways.” He sighs, a content smile on his face. “For now, I’m just glad that you didn’t leave me hanging. That you care.”

And then he leans in just slightly more, resting his forehead against Zhengting’s temple. “Thank you for caring enough about me,” he murmurs, gently.

Zhengting returns his smile, laughing softly, but he pushes Justin’s face from him the second after anyways, muttering, “Please don’t do that again. Your mother could be watching.”

* * *

And then later that day, Zhengting waits patiently outside the school’s west gate, a pair of sunglass on his face because he recently woke up from a nap and the sunlight on his eyes is _fucking painful_ , wearing a black and white tracksuit with a collar that goes a little too high because he’s never worn it to the school and it’s not anything he’d wear on a general basis anyways. Nobody needs to wonder why a teaching assistant that has almost graduated is still loitering around campus.

When Justin sees him, his face instantly morphs into an expression Zhengting can’t put a name to besides the phrase, “what the fuck?”

“You look absolutely horrendous,” he says, when he walks up to Zhengting, his face still scrunched up.

“What?” Zhengting asks, casually. He leans on his heels, looking down at his torso. “It can’t be that bad, right?”

Justin sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. He puts his palm on his cheek, sighs again and moves his hand to cover his mouth, staring Zhengting up and down critically.

“You know,” he begins, his words muffled by his hand, “tracksuits, especially ones that _match_ top and bottom, went out of fashion in like, 2009.”

Zhengting snorts. “How do you know? You were like, six or seven or something.”

“I might’ve been a little kid, but at least I was _aware_ ,” Justin replies, looking at Zhengting pointedly. “Your collar is too high, the stripes are an eyesore, the legs are too long and baggy, _do not_ tuck your hands into your pocket like that--” Zhengting instantly takes his hands out of his jacket pockets, “--and please do not wear this ever again. Or at least, not these two together.”

And then he glances behind him.

“Are you worried what other people will think?” Zhengting asks, slyly.

Justin sighs. “Well, yes, besides the fact that you’re hurting my head,” he replies, crossing his arms. “From a distance, you look like that one middle-aged dad who goes golfing all the time and that’s literally the only thing he does. _Golfing_. He also believes in the power of Skechers and that tennis shoes that aren’t all-white are for young people.”

Zhengting hums nonchalantly. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets now. They’re quite baggy and roomy. “That kind of sounds like me in the future,” he says, casually.

Justin suddenly kicks him in the shin. “Don’t!” he exclaims, “Please don’t give me any images!”

Zhengting starts laughing raucously at his reaction. Justin appears to be slightly fuming, his lips pursed, nose scrunched, hands balling up in fists at his side. And then he suddenly grabs Zhengting by the wrist. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “lets go. People are looking.”

Zhengting’s still laughing, his head tilted back. “You needn’t be so shy,” he says. “I doubt anyone can recognize me in this state, especially if I look just as bad as you said.”

Justin huffs, walking straight ahead without turning back to glance at Zhengting. “Maybe, but you're hurting me at the same time,” he mutters. “If this is you in the future, then I refuse to live with you in the future.”

And then Zhengting smiles slyly. “Oh, so now you’ve decided that we’re going to be together in the future, huh?”

Justin pauses his movements, deathly silent.

In one swift movement, he turns and kicks Zhengting in the shin again. “Stop it!” he whines, and then without even giving Zhengting a moment to recover, he starts walking on again, dragging the latter by the wrist with even more force than he had beforehand.

* * *

The rest of the week passes by generally uneventfully. Victoria is to leave for her business trip to Southeast Asia the following week, so she would miss Zhengting's graduation (that is, he assumes he's graduating). Which is totally fine by Zhengting, because he honestly feels a little sheepish about the whole thing.

On Friday, when he picks up Justin from school, he sees the boy trying to wave Sicheng off a ways ahead. Sicheng doesn't seem to relent until Justin shoves him harshly in the arm, which Zhengting raises his eyebrows at and nearly gasps. He understands Justin and Sicheng have a very comfortable friendship, but he rarely observes their interactions outside of a classroom.

Zhengting laughs when Justin notices him standing next to the gate, having watched the whole spectacle. And then Justin just marches straight past him, grabbing his hand on the way without a single word.

Later, Justin gets a text from Sicheng and he instantly breaks out in a fit of mad giggles, shoving the phone in Zhengting's face.

“He saw you leaving with me and is now jealous because I told him I have a friend in college!”

Zhengting smiles. “Part of that is true,” he notes, and sighs. “Ah, should I have been more careful? I don't want people jumping to conclusions. Sicheng's is pretty innocent, but that's because he knows you. Other people--”

“Oh, come on,” Justin interrupts, huffing. “Relax. The school year is almost over, no one cares enough. And besides, you shouldn't be worrying at all--” he leans over, placing a palm gently on Zhengting's cheek, turning his head towards him, “--Mr. Has a degree now and will soon become a famous professor.”

Zhengting laughs bashfully. “I don't know for sure,” he murmurs. “The results for any my exams haven't been released.”

“Don’t doubt anything,” Justin hums, happily. “You're very smart, you're so hardworking, so responsible. I'm really happy for you.”

And then Zhengting is the one who leans in closer, who presses their lips together firmly, because at that moment Justin's words make him feel that little spark in his chest that he hadn't felt for such a long time.

It's the kind of emotion where one is proud of something they've done, some kind of obstacle they've overcome, and Zhengting is just so overwhelmed by even a sliver of that emotion.

He disregards one of the rules they've put up, about being fleeting and gentle. But the way he kisses Justin isn't with a fervor of lust and power -- it's just because someone he truly cares about is in his grasp, and he feels he can finally relax with them, even just for a moment.

Their kisses are slow, languid, quiet, and Zhengting thinks that he really does need to reach Justin how to kiss properly in the future, but he quickly shelves that thought away for another time.

And then when they pull apart for air, Zhengting keeps their foreheads pressed together and laughs, smiling at Justin.

Justin giggles too, his face and his lips pink. “I can't wait to see where you'll be in the future,” he murmurs. “I can't wait to see all the great things you'll do.”

“You’re talking to me like you're my mom,” Zhengting notes, sillily.

Justin flashes him a grin. “Maybe I am, but it's true,” he replies. “I wonder where you'll go in the world. Maybe I'll even follow you.”

Zhengting throws his head back and laughs, telling Justin it's way too early to think about that.

But he presses their foreheads back together and closed his eyes and smiles, because for the first time in forever, he feels true happiness.

* * *

And then when Zhengting gets to stand up on the stage and take his certificate from Professor Liu’s outstretched hand, he smiles, his face tense, his heart beating so fast in his chest. He sees his mother in the crowd stand up, holding her phone in front of her face, trying to take a picture, even though her husband is trying to pull her down and tell her she can’t simply just stand up in the middle of a crowd and block everyone’s view.

Zhengting nearly trips as he’s walking down the steps to join his classmates. Chengcheng laughs at him when he nearly trips again on the auditorium floor, and Zhengting grimaces at him.

And then when all of the audience are allowed to swarm their newly graduated friends and family, Zhengting gets crushed in a hug by Justin. The boy nearly picks Zhengting off of his feet, and he has to start half-fake, half-not hacking in order to get him to let go.

“Sorry,” Justin says, laughing. “I’m just so excited and so happy.”

Seunghyuk, standing right behind him, laughs, the sound like a roar. “You can hug him all you want later,” he says. And then he steps up to Zhengting, placing his palms on the latter’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, man,” he says, before enveloping Zhengting in a hug. “I lived to see this day,” he sniffs.

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Stop being so damn emotional,” he says. “You graduated a week ago, remember?”

Seunghyuk pouts. “So rude,” he mutters. “And yes I did, but why can’t I be emotional? It’s like watching my own child grow up and leave my side.” He fake cries, and Zhengting almost wants to punch him. “I’m going to have to go back to school, and my son is going to go straight to work.”

“Who said I’m the son?” Zhengting frowns. “When you’re the one that goes to parties on weekdays, gets wasted, and then comes back complaining about his headaches even though they’re all his own fault?”

“Oh, Uncle Seunghyuk does that?” Justin asks, looking at Seunghyuk curiously.

“Uh--” Seunghyuk begins, staring.

Zhengting laughs as he walks away, going off to find his parents. He enjoys it very much when Justin calls Seunghyuk “uncle”.

He’s later crushed again, this time by his mother. His father actually respects his personal space and gives him a favorably firm hug. Chengcheng and Yixuan find him afterwards, with their own parents on their tails, insisting that everyone take photos together. Seunghyuk even tries to photobomb, but Zhengting shoves him in the shoulder and tells him to mind his own business, go make sure Justin isn’t lost somewhere, and then Seunghyuk realizes the boy wandered off when he was supposed to be following him to find Zhengting.

Then a pair of hands wrap around Zhengting’s head, covering his eyes. “Hi!” he hears someone say, behind him, “Congratulations!”

He can recognize that voice anywhere.

“Xuanyi…” he begins, and grabs at her wrists, pulling them off of his face. A wide grin breaks across his lips, and he wraps his arms around her in a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Zhengting,” she murmurs, in his ear, her voice light and giggly. “Congratulations, you’ve finally made it. I’m so proud.”

Zhengting laughs when they pull apart. “Thank you,” he replies. “I’m going to miss you, Xuanyi.”

She smiles, tilting her head to the side. “Hey,” she begins, “you’re going to be working at the university, right? I won’t be going anywhere. You can always come and visit me. And who knows? Maybe you can come in and give talks for the kids in the future.”

Zhengting laughs sheepishly. “I think I’ve had enough of that for now,” he says. “Now you’ve got me singing the water cycle song in my head every other day.”

Xuanyi giggles at his statement. “Sorry,” she apologizes. “But it’s useful, see? Now the kids know the process of the water cycle.”

And then at that moment, someone asks, “Oh? Who’s this?”

Both of them turn around. Seunghyuk is standing there, Justin at his side.

Zhengting opens his mouth to speak, but then he pauses. Oh. There’s _Justin_. And then, there’s his biology teacher standing right in front of Zhengting. But he doesn’t have to explain, because Xuanyi goes ahead and introduces herself anyways.

“Wu Xuanyi,” she greets, holding out a hand. “Zhengting worked for me as a teaching assistant over the year.”

Seunghyuk takes her hand and shakes it firmly, smiling. “Cui Chengxi,” he replies. “It’s nice to meet you, Xuanyi. He’s told me a bit about you.”

And then Seunghyuk turns to look at Zhengting. In Korean, he says, “Wow, you were not joking when you said she was pretty.”

Zhengting snorts. “Whatever,” he replies, with a short laugh.

“Oh, you speak Korean?” Xuanyi asks, curiously.

Seunghyuk nods. He returns to Chinese. “Yeah, I’m Korean, but I’m studying Chinese over at Beijing University. Zhengting and I know each other from when we both were students in Seoul.”

“That’s interesting,” Xuanyi notes. “You speak Chinese quite well, do you have any relatives that are Chinese?”

Seunghyuk shakes his head. He begins to reply, but Zhengting doesn’t hear any of it, because he doesn’t want to. He just waves the two off, briefly reminding Seunghyuk that he’ll text him when they’re going to leave, and approaches Justin.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he says, quietly, and Justin nods. “Xuanyi probably did see you, but I’m glad she didn’t say anything.”

Justin sighs. “Yeah,” he agrees.

They walk out of the auditorium, down one of the hallways next to it. There’s no movement, the area entirely still. The muffled sounds of the rest of the people become quieter and quieter as they walk, and soon Zhengting can only clearly hear his and Justin’s footsteps.

“Your school ends in another three weeks, doesn’t it?” Zhengting asks.

Justin nods, humming. He looks down at the ground as he walks, his hands tucked behind his back.

And then he stops in his tracks, turning to look at Zhengting.

“Hmm?” Zhengting asks, stopping as well.

Justin sighs. He glances around them quickly, before switching his gaze back to Zhengting. He begins to speak, his voice quiet and soft. “I may be younger than you,” he murmurs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be proud of you, right?”

Zhengting smiles. “No, of course not.”

Justin sighs again, pursing his lips. “I know I put you under a lot of stress,” he begins, “and I’m so, so, so sorry. If I were you, I don’t know how in the world I’d surv--”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Oh, shush,” he interrupts. “We’ve already gone past that. I’m okay now. I’ve been getting better.”

“But are you completely better?” Justin asks.

Zhengting pauses, thinking. “I don’t know,” he replies, after a moment. But then he laughs softly. “Will you help me get there?”

“Of course,” Justin replies, immediately, and a smile breaks across his lips. He glances around them again, and Zhengting does too, curious to see what he’s looking for. But there’s nothing around them, nothing but the lights up ahead, the doors, and the tile floor.

“Hey,” Justin whispers, “can I kiss you?”

Zhengting’s eyes widen. “Here?” he asks.

Justin nods. “There’s no one around,” he adds.

And then Zhengting laughs. A hand snakes its way to the back of the collar of Justin’s button-up, and he whispers, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls Justin closer to him. Their lips meet in a rush -- it’s not soft and gentle, but nor is it rough and feverish, somewhere in between that’s representative of the way both of them feel at that moment. It’s not lust, nor is it sorrow and wishfulness, but it’s just simply a flurry of excitement, a flurry of anticipation, and a flutter of butterflies in their hearts and their stomachs.

Justin is beautiful. His eyelids always fall a little bit whenever Zhengting kisses him a little more past a peck. His lips turn red easily, even if they aren’t bitten.

He’s very physically beautiful, Zhengting knows that. But he’s also very emotionally and mentally beautiful, even if he may appear to be scarred to some people.

But Zhengting thinks he doesn’t have scars. Or if he does, they’re beautiful too.

Everything about him is beautiful, and no matter how much his conscious tells him that it’s wrong to think that way, his heart tells him that it’s absolutely overwhelmed, absolutely captivated and captured, that it’s locked in a cage by that beauty and he can’t do anything about it.

* * *

Now that it's summer break for Zhengting and Seunghyuk, Seunghyuk is invited to stay over. He gets the floor as a bed, because the couch is obviously not the greatest idea for giant number two.

For the few weeks Seunghyuk is there, Zhengting almost feels like he's back in the dorm in Seoul, except Euiwoong and Hyeongseop are missing and there's a few rules Zhengting has to make sure Seunghyuk understands.

One, he can't bring back any girls from the bar. Two, he's not allowed to drive the car. Three, he needs to pay for his own food. And four, Zhengting asks him to please not watch porn on the couch, go do it in the bathroom and clean himself up afterwards.

Seunghyuk whines, tells him he's no fun, where did his old Jung Jung go since they used to go to bars together and pick up chicks. But Zhengting reminds him that there's a human named Justin who basically lives with him and he's a boy and he's pure and innocent and Zhengting wants to cuddle him and wrap a blanket around him and protect him from being corrupted by Seunghyuk, who claims that his habits are quite normal for any fully grown man.

Zhengting just threatens to kick Seunghyuk out and make him pay for a hotel, so his friend shuts up.

And then when he's sitting alone in his room, laying on his bed and just contemplating life, he laughs at himself because he realizes how hypocritical, in some sense, his words were.

Seunghyuk's words held truth. Fully grown men do have rather wild libidos (but Zhengting personally thinks Seunghyuk is sometimes a little too horny for his own good). And Zhengting has just barely, barely, barely, hanging by the last thread, managed to survive the past few months and not let his dick get ahold of his head like it did last time.

Because last time, he fell into a pit afterwards and had a real fucking struggle picking himself back up.

He gave up on finding good porn, because just like straight porn, gay porn is plagued with grossly exaggerated moaning and Zhengting really needn't give himself more ideas. And then, he switched to thinking about his exes, any girls he'd hooked up with in the past, but apparently he doesn't get riled up by them anymore. Lastly, he tried taking cold showers whenever his dick made itself known. That worked maybe once or twice, but never again.

And now, he's kinda desperate.

_Is it a sin if I imagine something but I don't actually do it?_

Zhengting still remembers how he felt last time he lost control.

Justin is young. He's a kid. Inexperienced, _pure_.

Zhengting wanted to be the one to break him in, to teach him, to grab him and leave his mark on him. He wanted to be the first one that would give Justin his first taste of what so-called “corruption” is. What _sin_ feels like.

And Justin had been completely willing, but Zhengting has a conscious.

Although, it's kind of slowly breaking. Because he's desperate, he's tired, but the last thing he wants to do is hurt the person he loves. Maybe he's quite selfish for thinking it's (almost) acceptable for him to feel this way about Justin, but he hopes he can just barely repent a tiny bit of himself because he's not lost all of his responsibility and sense of right and wrong -- _yet_.

He's so damn sexually frustrated that he slams his face into his pillow and groans. There it is, his dick is awakening again. Recently, it's been saying hi more often than usual and Zhengting even wonders why male genitalia has to _move_ when he gets aroused, because although it's frustrating at least no one would notice if nothing rose in his pants.

He can't go take a cold shower now because Seunghyuk is currently in the only bathroom in the apartment.

Zhengting sighs. That question comes back to him. _Is it a sin if I imagine something, but don't actually do it?_

And the next second, he thinks, _fuck it_. That's basically the motto he's been running on for the past few months, anyways.

He's suddenly so overwhelmed with this decision -- it's like the floodgates have opened. What is the first thing he wants to think of?

He doesn't want anything too extreme, no matter how much of a secret fantasy it is for him, just in case it actually does tempt him a lot.

And then, the thought hits him.

Obviously, Justin is sexually attracted to him too, but how in the world does he seem so...normal? Clearly, the kid does have some degree of a hormonal sex drive because he otherwise wouldn't have been so willing under Zhengting's hands.

Is it simply because he has an easier time dealing with this? Or… is it because he's been doing what Zhengting could've done in the first place?

Imagine the object of his affections. Why he's so hot and bothered in the first place.

Zhengting is going to go crazy from the simple image that appears in his mind.

It's not even anything wild.

It's just an image of Justin, with a similar expression on his face as Zhengting remembers from last time. His eyes half-lidded and glazed over, his lips red and dark and bitten, face flushed with patches of dark pink, a line of drool at the corner of his mouth.

Except, this time, there's more.

His head is thrown back, his neck exposed, Adam's apple jutting out, skin as soft and smooth as ever. He's wearing something large and loose, the gray cloth falling over one of his shoulders. It exposes his collarbones, and Zhengting can vividly imagine their shape and form.

But the thing is, that's the only thing he's wearing.

Zhengting has seen Justin's bare legs before, but not higher than his knees.

However, he doesn't really need an image that to imagine anything.

In his mind, Justin sits like that one time Zhengting had found him crying on the floor. With his legs folded at his sides, his palms between his knees. Quiet, shy, _submissive_ almost.

His legs are bare, his knees are bare, all knobby and pink and slightly bruised.

And his thighs are bare, too. They're just as soft and fair and smooth as the rest of his skin.

But the cloth of the shirt he's wearing covers the tops of them. Like he's been playing dress-up in the closet of someone who is obviously larger than him.

Zhengting's mouth is so dry at the moment, it's painful for him to swallow.

And then, the imagination version of himself does something he's been wanting to do for a long time.

He watches his imagination self lean forward, placing a hand on Justin's knee.

Slowly, his hand moves up. He revels in how simply beautiful and unmarred and smooth his skin is, the same feeling one would get from running their fingertips over silk.

And then, his hand makes it to the edge of the gray shirt.

He slides his hand under, feeling the warmth of Justin's body heat beneath his palm. He rests his hand on the boy's hip, bony and sharp, but firm. He grips tightly onto that area, thumb running harsh circles into flesh.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his other hand begin working it's way up Justin's other thigh as well.

But this time, the touch of his fingers is light, grazing over his skin like a feather. And then when he gets close to the tops of his thighs, he runs his fingers across the inside, flesh so impossibly soft and warm and inviting and-- imagination Justin makes a sound that Zhengting has never heard, but it's so strangely similar to one that he does recall hearing before. One that only poured even more gasoline to the blazing fire underneath his skin.

His hand hasn't even moved past the waistband of his sweatpants, but he nearly comes at the simple _image,_ so vivid and tangible in his mind, as if it were real life.

* * *

It’s real hard to do things together when two of you are twenty-three and the other one is seventeen. Seunghyuk wants to go to bars and clubs, and while Justin is technically old enough to do both, Zhengting wraps his arms around the boy’s shoulders and head, petting his hair, and says that he shouldn’t go near Seunghyuk, because Uncle Seunghyuk always has bad ideas.

“I fucking live with you for now, you idiot,” Seunghyuk retorts, rolling his eyes.

Justin suggests they could go swimming, but then Zhengting reminds him there’s probably going to be hardly any space to stand in the pool because they’re in _China._ And then none of them can come up with ideas that don’t involve drinking or spending a lot of money, so all three end up piling next to each other on the couch and watching TV. Or, playing WoW with Hyeongseop and Euiwoong, but there’s only so much staring at the screen per day Zhengting can take.

The other half of the time, he ends up laying on his couch and staring up at his ceiling, his head on the armrest, one arm and one foot dangling down. He’ll be halfway asleep, his eyes almost closed, and then Justin will come and sit on his stomach, carrying a bag of chips and the TV remote and Zhengting will almost choke -- almost. Justin isn’t heavy enough (yet?) to cause him any distress past an odd weight on his stomach.

Seunghyuk, sitting at the dining table, sees Justin’s head over the top of the couch and squints oddly. “Did you just magically get taller?” he asks.

Justin shakes his head. “I’m sitting on Zhengting,” he replies, casually.

Seunghyuk snorts. “Okay,” he says, before turning back to whatever thing he was looking at on his laptop.

Zhengting just sighs. He’s way too tired and way too lazy to shove Justin off of him.

And then, on the weekdays, before Zhengting needs to pick Justin up from school, Seunghyuk tries to get him to go to bars and stuff, but Zhengting reminds him it’s like one in the afternoon and Zhengting is the one that’s driving. And then he asks about going to parties or something, says they can go and pick up more chicks and Zhengting just… doesn’t want to.

Seunghyuk asks him why in the world he’s being such a stick in the mud. Where’s his old Jung Jung, again? And then he asks, “Wait, are you being such a stickler because you’ve got a girlfriend now?”

Zhengting snorts. “No,” he replies, simply.

“You couldn’t have aged like thirty years in the past year,” Seunghyuk says, critically. “Seriously, man, what happened? Was it something serious?”

Zhengting shakes his head. Nothing Seunghyuk needs to know. “Maybe too much stress,” he reasons, nonchalantly. “I haven’t exactly been partying or anything like that at all the past school year.”

“Even no drinking?” Seunghyuk raises an eyebrow.

“No… besides wine with Victoria sometimes. Oh, Chengcheng brought over _baijiu_ and--” Zhengting pauses. Oh god, he doesn’t need to think about that part of his life.

“...And?” Seunghyuk narrows his eyes. He sees the sudden look of cringe and regret on his face. Suspicious.

“Nothing,” Zhengting hastily says.

And then an hour later, Seunghyuk walks up to him and asks, “You didn’t hook up with Chengcheng, did you?”

“I didn’t _what_?” Zhengting asks. He nearly drops his laptop on the floor, and he scrambles clumsily to make sure it doesn’t slide off of his thighs.

“Hook up with him,” Seunghyuk says. He’s genuinely curious -- there’s no sort of malice in his tone. “I don’t know, when people get drunk they do things they’d never think of while sober and like, you’re kind of that type of guy that can’t exactly hold down relationships with girls that easily--”

Zhengting wants to cry. He groans, burying his face in his palms. “For the love of god, Seunghyuk, I _did not_. Seriously.”

Seunghyuk sighs. “Okay,” he murmurs, before walking away.

Zhengting stares over the top of the couch at Seunghyuk’s receding back. He doesn’t know if his friend believed his answer, but he can tell that some part of Seunghyuk is still uneasy. Suspicious, even.

* * *

“It’s not Xuanyi, is it?”

“Xuanyi is what?” Zhengting asks.

“The person you’re dating.”

“ _What_?” Zhengting exclaims. He accidentally stubs his toe on the leg of the table, and he winces, grumbling in pain as he hops around on one foot for a few seconds. “Christ, how many times do I have to tell you--to tell everyone--I’m not dating her!”

Seunghyuk holds up his hands, eyes wide. “Geez,” he replies. “I just wanted to know, since I kinda asked her out on a date and she said yes.”

“You _what_?” Zhengting asks again. “Seunghyuk, you--”

Seunghyuk quickly backs away, because Zhengting is leaning forward, his hands braced at his side like he’s about to slap Seunghyuk. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you beforehand, if you had feelings for her or anything and--”

Zhengting sighs deeply, slapping his hand over his face. “No,” he murmurs, “no, I’m sorry, I was just surprised.” He takes his hand off of his face, and looks at his friend softly. “Well, whatever. I’m happy for you. Hope the date goes well.”

Seunghyuk slowly drops his hands. “Thank you,” he replies, blinking rapidly, and sighs. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

Zhengting shakes his head, walking past Seunghyuk to get something from the refrigerator.

“...Is something wrong, Jung Jung?” Seunghyuk asks, hesitantly. “And I ask that in the sincerest way possible.”

“No,” Zhengting simply replies. He gets his bottle of coke and sets it on the counter in front of him.

“You say that,” Seunghyuk begins, his voice still soft and uncertain. It’s entirely unlike him, someone who’s normally rather brash with his words. Seunghyuk always says what he’s thinking with absolutely no shame, and will never fail to back up his opinions proudly. So this new tone, this new hesitation, it’s entirely foreign to Zhengting, and he feels a little bit on edge.

“You say that, every time, Jung Jung, but I don’t feel like it’s true.”

“Why?” Zhengting asks, casually opening his bottle and taking a sip.

“It’s not just that you no longer want to do the things that you used to like to do,” Seunghyuk begins, crossing his arms. “But it’s also that, for some reason, even though it’s summer break now, there’s some barrier with you and you can't relax. Like, I don’t know if it’s just because you haven’t seen me in person for so long. But we used to tell everything to each other. But now… now, there’s something that’s worrying you, something that’s constantly on your mind and you won’t tell me what it is.”

Well, what is Zhengting supposed to say? That Justin isn’t actually just his friend’s kid that he takes care of, that they’re something more, and to put it directly, Zhengting really, really, really wants to do unnameable things to the boy?

Zhengting swallows his soda. He winces, both because Seunghyuk’s stare is making him a little uncomfortable and because the carbonation in the liquid is kind of burning his throat.

Seunghyuk narrows his eyes even more at Zhengting’s silence. “There’s something going on in your life that’s making you doubt yourself,” he says.

Zhengting freezes.

“I don’t know what it is,” Seunghyuk continues, “but it’s clearly showing through. It’s not only that you seem like you’ve aged up so much, Zhengting, but it’s also sort of like you’ve just become more retracted into yourself. You get startled at things you used to not bat an eye at, you’re always so quiet unless someone is speaking to you. You also seem to spend way more time thinking about things than you used to.” He begins to walk closer to Zhengting, his steps slow and short. “The old you didn’t even like kids. The old you would’ve shoved Justin off whenever he tried to bother you and give him food or money to busy himself with. But now, now it’s vastly different. Like you’re being led around by a leash, except I don’t know who’s holding the other end.”

And then Seunghyuk is standing directly in front of him.

“Whatever’s wrong, please tell me.”

Seunghyuk leans forward, wrapping his arms around Zhengting.

“I’m your friend, not your enemy. I’m not here to take advantage of whatever worries you have. Don’t shut me out.”

 _Don’t shut me out_.

Zhengting’s heard those words before.

His head falls forward onto Seunghyuk’s shoulder.

“I can’t tell you,” he whispers, his voice beginning to tremble, “it’s something I can’t tell anyone. It’s something I even have a hard time telling myself.”

“That’s okay,” Seunghyuk murmurs, his hand rubbing soothing circles into Zhengting’s back. “That’s okay. But if you don’t tell someone, one day it’s going to eat all of you up and soon you’ll be nothing but an empty shell.”

Zhengting tries to breathe, but his throat chokes. “I-I know,” he replies.

He just hopes that day doesn’t come before Justin hits eighteen.

* * *

One day, while he and Seunghyuk are eating dinner together, the latter looking at something on his phone, his spoon hanging in his mouth, he raises an eyebrow and looks next to him at Zhengting.

“What?” Zhengting asks.

“I’m texting Xuanyi,” Seunghyuk begins, “and she kinda just mentioned how Justin was with you and me at your graduation.”

“...Oh,” Zhengting murmurs.

“She just said, ‘He’s in one of my biology classes. If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know him?’” Seunghyuk adds. “Man, what do I say?”

“...He’s a family friend?” Zhengting suggests. “I mean, that’s not a lie. Just don’t say anything about him living with me, now that’s kind of weird.”

Seunghyuk snorts. “Yeah, of course,” he notes, before sticking his spoon back in his mouth and proceeding to type. A minute later, he reads, “‘Oh, that’s cute. I’m surprised Zhengting never mentioned him before if they already knew each other beforehand.’” He stares at Zhengting, looking at him with an expression of confusion. “Man, you never said anything about him to her?”

Zhengting shrugs. “What was I supposed to say?”

“You could’ve just straight out told her that he’s a family friend,” Seunghyuk states, matter-of-factly. “It’s just a little bit suspicious that you like, didn’t say anything.”

Zhengting sighs. “Whatever,” he mutters, “it’s not like I have to teach there. Again. Ever. Thank goodness.”

Seunghyuk laughs. “Should I tell her that?” he asks, jokingly. “And besides, it couldn’t have been that bad, right? Judging from what Xuanyi says, it feels like you two became relatively good friends.”

Zhengting just grimaces, waving him off with his hand. “Don’t say anything. And yeah, we did. But like, who has fun making lesson plans? Coming up with essay prompts? Reading a terribly written essay and then giving the kid a really bad score and then seeing them cry?”

Seunghyuk lets out another bark of laughter. He’s holding his phone right above his bowl of soup, and Zhengting hopes he doesn’t drop it. “Maybe you’re too soft,” he says, smiling. “I would _love_ to hand out bad grades.”

And then Zhengting kicks him in the shin. “You’re just a sadistic bastard,” he chides, half-scowling, half-smiling at his friend.

Rapidly, Seunghyuk shakes his head, his hair flying around. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’m not sadistic, you’re just too nice. I wouldn’t be surprised if in the future when you’re an actual professor, the students will get to have fun pushing you around.”

Zhengting sets down his chopsticks, folding his hands together in front of him as he looks at his friend. “And what about you?” he asks, “Don’t you want to teach Chinese back in Korea?”

Seunghyuk sighs. “Don’t know,” he murmurs. “Thought that’s what I wanted to do.” He grins. “Think I might settle for being a translator instead. I’ll get to travel around, meet more hot girls and make Seop jealous. He already kinda was when I sent him a picture of Xuanyi I took at your graduation.”

Zhengting rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’re real sadistic,” he mutters, picking back up his chopsticks and shoving another wad of rice into his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that i am skimming through it as i make final edits i have just realized i described zhengting as wearing the classic squatting slav uniform
> 
> i don't know what to say


	15. 候

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is so up and down c hrist

**候:**   _Sometimes waiting a period of time can solve things, but sometimes it turns out you're just waiting out the calm part of the storm._

* * *

 “So like, instead of me dating your biology teacher, your uncle now is,” Zhengting casually states, as he is drowsily staring at the TV screen, the side of his face smushed into a cushion uncomfortably, but he can’t be bothered to care because there’s some kid sitting on his stomach and every time he shifts he feels like he’s going to topple both himself and Justin onto the floor.

“I’m _not_ the damn uncle! I’m the same age as you, you asshole!” Seunghyuk shouts from the dining table.

Zhengting laughs. He drawls the sound out, and it ends up being much lower and much more whiny-sounding than his actual voice.

Justin squints. “Are you okay?” he asks, gently.

Zhengting sighs. He presses his face more into the cushion. “Yeah,” he mutters, “I’m just tired. Maybe it’s all the heat.”

“No,” Seunghyuk interrupts, “he’s old. Like, he’s actually old. _He_ should be the uncle, not me. C’mon Justin, I’m fun, I’ll take you to bars and clubbing and parties and other shit that teenage boys like. Jung Jung is just a stick in the mud now, all he wants to do is sleep and eat.”

All of them know he’s joking--except for the part about Zhengting sleeping and eating, because really that’s all he does nowadays--and Zhengting snorts as Justin giggles. “Okay,” the boy replies, “I’ll think about your offer, Uncle Seunghyuk.”

Seunghyuk laughs, and Zhengting can practically see his stupid grinning face in front of his eyes. “See?” Seunghyuk adds, “I’m more fun.”

Zhengting just rolls his eyes and sighs. He swings his arm back and forth, watching that knob on his wrist go side to side with it.

Well, he was, until he feels that weight on his stomach suddenly move to sit on his chest as well.

And then when he turns his head and stares, there’s Justin, looking at him with both of his palms placed next to each other right beneath Zhengting’s neck.

“I still prefer you,” Justin whispers, a playful glint in his eye.

The position he’s in right now, if Seunghyuk were to walk over, suspicious wouldn’t even begin to describe what he’d think. Justin’s face is close enough that Zhengting can feel his breaths and see every detail of his face.

Zhengting can’t help but smile at him, even though he still reminds, “Remember, don’t push the rules. Especially because your uncle is here.”

“I know,” Justin whispers, in response, smiling like he’s going to laugh. And then he leans forward, closing his eyes as he kisses Zhengting softly.

Zhengting reaches up his hand, running his fingers through Justin’s hair, his palm resting on the back of his head. He can feel his smile against his lips, soft and warm and sweet. And when Justin pulls away, Zhengting is just reminded of why he fell in love in the first place.

* * *

 _Why he fell in love in the first place_.

Well, fuck.

Zhengting hates when things he doesn’t necessarily want to remember--or, he doesn’t really _need_ to remember--repeat themselves.

Especially in his goddamned dreams.

“Happy birthday,” he sees, and hears, his dream self telling Justin when they wake up, attached to each other.

He hears Justin’s soft giggles in his ear, his breaths light and warm and happy, so vivid and tangible, as if the dream were happening in real life -- no, at one time in his life, it was real. Too real.

There’s Justin, rolling on top of him, sticking his face right up to Zhengting’s like he did when the scene happened in real life. Zhengting can practically feel the rapid heartbeat in his chest, the rushing in his head, and the extreme nervousness in the pit of his stomach, all an exact replica of the emotions he once experienced.

Except, this time around, Victoria doesn’t call him. There’s no sudden ringing of his phone, no jump in his pulse at the sound, no shaky limbs as he clamors for his phone and basically collapses on the chair at his desk.

He’d wondered this once before -- what’d exactly happen if Victoria hadn’t called right at that moment.

And it seems like his subconscious wants to answer that question, although it’s a little too late -- or maybe it’s just the wrong timing? For an answer.

Justin kisses him, light and soft and sweet, and Zhengting sees and feels his dream self run a hand up the boy’s spine, cradling the back of his head, threading his fingers through those messy strands. There’s the scent and lull of sleep still around both of them, lazy and warm, muddling their sense of time as if they both were wading through a large body of water.

Zhengting doesn’t know how long they kiss, because time doesn’t exist in dreams. But it’s not like the last time he was in a compromising situation with Justin, not rushed and intense with fire flowing through his veins.

This time, it’s slow and languid and leisurely, but there is still strength in his senses, still strength in the scene, just a different kind of intensity. One that feels so, so real and so _right_. Like they’re meant to be doing this, this is nothing new for them.

Zhengting sees dream Justin raise his jaw, exposing that skin beneath his chin and the long span down his neck. It’s entirely tempting, because one of the things Zhengting has come to love about him, or at least physically so, ever since the first time he laid eyes on him, is that he’s long and graceful.

He sees his dream self plant little kisses down Justin’s skin, so soft and pretty. There’s no temptation for him to leave marks and bite down harshly like previously. Well, there is, but in an entirely other sense. If he marrs that lovely skin, then he does so because it just happens, not because he intended so.

His dream self is now sitting up, Justin perched atop his thighs, the boy’s collar pressed closely to Zhengting’s lips, his hands resting on Zhengting’s shoulders. He allows Zhengting to trail his palms up the back of his shirt, his skin there hot with sleep and relaxation, as if he were still wrapped up tightly in his blanket. Zhengting can run his fingers up and down Justin’s spine, counting the knobs there, because he’s simply so thin. And whenever he flexes his back, Zhengting feels the muscle and bone move beneath his palm. A fascinating feeling, almost, because it reminds him and tricks him into believing that there’s a human under his hands.

 _The curve of his back is simply beautiful_ , he thinks, because Justin is arching his back at his touches, pressing his chest further against Zhengting, gripping his shoulders and seeking his warmth quietly.

His hands, as he moves them up, slips the gray cotton of Justin’s shirt past his back, past his shoulders, up his neck and over his head. He doesn’t see Justin’s face at this moment, only being able to feel him, hear him, taste him. His breaths are quiet, sound, relaxed, not labored and intense like one might expect. It’s as if Zhengting weren’t kissing down the span of his body and instead were petting his hair.

Justin’s torso… it’s fascinating, Zhengting thinks. Because he’s quite thin, whenever he shifts at all, one can see the lines on his body move as well, no matter how minor the movement is. And Zhengting watches his chest rise and fall with his breaths, the movement almost entrancing. He can’t help but continue his kisses, light and feathery, down that pretty chest of Justin’s. And then when he expects his dream self to topple over dream Justin because he can’t crane his neck down anymore to reach farther, Justin just slides his arms past Zhengting’s shoulders, his skin fever-hot and pulsing, and drapes himself over him, the side of his cheek coming to rest on Zhengting’s head.

Their bodies are pressed so closely, that if Zhengting were to turn his head and put his ear up against Justin’s chest, he would be able to hear his heartbeat.

But Zhengting, he doesn’t want to move. At all. He just leans his forehead against Justin’s skin and closes his eyes slowly. He’s warm, hot almost, but not unbearably so. It’s relaxing, it’s comforting, it makes him a little bit sleepy. He can just barely feel the rise and fall of Justin’s back beneath his hands and his arms, and he’s yet again just _tricked_ into believing that there’s a human under his grip.

They stay like that, drowsy and sluggish and cozy and relaxed, for who knows how long, because Zhengting can’t distinguish time in his dreams. Even though their positions are compromising, even though their actions may be sensual and provocative in many ways, the reason they’re like this isn’t motivated by lust -- or at least, this time around, it certainly isn’t.

Instead of lust, it’s love.

The arms that are wrapped around him are from a person that loves him.

* * *

Love, he thinks, just like Victoria said, is a weird emotion. It makes you do things that you know will make you unhappy, and it makes you doubt.

That’s one emotion that’s been living with him for so long now. Doubt. At this point, he’s constantly bouncing between three states of mind: One, which is _I need to keep my distance. You can do this, you can survive, everything will be fine._ Two, _This is terribly hard. I feel like I’m actually going crazy, and I don’t know what to do or think._ Three, _Fuck it, it’s not like anyone will find out, right? There’s such a short time before next February._

He really, really, really hates two of those states of mind. Which is quite disappointing and distressful. Whenever he and Seunghyuk go out and buy alcohol, he ends up drinking a fair share of it. Seunghyuk will look at him worriedly, but not say anything, which in turn kind of worries Zhengting, and then he’ll look even more distressed and Seunghyuk will worry more but not say anything still. Rinse and repeat this vicious cycle, and you’ve got two young adult men who are basically drinking enough alcohol for a family of six a few times a week.

And not to mention Justin, who constantly bounces between the roles of being the mother for two guys that are both six years older than him and the younger brother that just watches his older siblings waste themselves away and scoff because at least he’s entirely sober and has enough control over his brain to recognize that it’s not a good idea to attempt to drunkenly sext your ex, which resulted in the paternal side of him appearing and taking away Seunghyuk’s phone.

His school ends the Wednesday that week, and Seunghyuk is to return to Beijing on Sunday, so Zhengting figures all three of them should do something nice together. But that doesn’t really result in anything, more like more movie marathons and a higher amount of junk food being bought. The closest they get to anything “special” is ordering Korean takeout, which this time Zhengting is able to enjoy much more thoroughly than previously, and higher grade alcohol being bought along with it.

Things go smoothly, it feels, with the exception of the hangovers he gets, but it’s alright because Justin brings them hot tea (“How come I didn’t hear the water boiling?” Zhengting asks, one day, frowning, and Justin replies, “That’s because I microwaved it.”) and aspirin in the morning. Zhengting isn’t one that gets terribly hungover. He never gets sick, his headaches are relatively manageable, and his dry throat goes away by the afternoon. Seunghyuk, however, is an entirely other case. Zhengting is glad his friend doesn’t really throw up (or at least, he hasn’t gotten drunk enough to throw up), but he grumbles and creaks and groans like an old man because of the pain he supposedly feels all over his body. Zhengting says “supposedly”, because at this point it’s unclear whether or not Seunghyuk is exaggerating to get pity.

He one day jokingly asks Seunghyuk if he’s going to need to install one of those bathtubs that has the little door opening so Seunghyuk doesn’t have to lift his old man legs to get into the tub.

And in response, he’s met with a pillow in his face and a bunch of giggles from Justin. “Shut the fuck up,” Seunghyuk replies, groaning, taking the pillow on the other side of him and smushing it on his face. “Your voice is way too whiny and creaky and shit for the morning.”

“It’s nearing two in the afternoon,” Zhengting points out, and Seunghyuk groans again. “Let me fucking sleep,” he mutters, so Zhengting just rolls his eyes, stands up, and grabs Justin’s hand and pulls him towards the door. “Just don’t start my stove or anything,” he reminds Seunghyuk when he pauses at the doorway, “but it’s not like I expect you to be able to in your current state.” Seunghyuk doesn’t reply, just growls, and Zhengting laughs as he closes the door behind him.

So besides Seunghyuk, everyone else seems to be faring okay, even Victoria, who occasionally sends him texts about how things are like in whatever country she’s in at the moment. She’ll send him photos of local food to tempt him, and then fake apologize because she can’t freeze dry it and take it back with her when she returns to China in a week or so.

But Zhengting should know by now that life runs on a cycle. Or, in his case, life is basically a rollercoaster.

He’s trying to finish the last bit of writing he needs on his resume, because even though Professor Liu has already stated he’d be working for her, she still wants a list of his qualifications and experiences and whatnot. But because there’s still a lingering heaviness in the back of his head from his hangover earlier that day, and combined with the general sleepiness he feels from staying up late nights, he ends up nodding off sometime with his laptop still sitting on his thighs.

And then when he wakes up after what feels like a century and a half, he smushes his face against something warm and soft that smells very familiar and nice.

When he turns his head up, he sees Justin staring down at him. _Oh_ , he realizes, _probably fell asleep on him. But was he even sitting next to me in the first place?_

He’s so confused and so drowsy that he doesn’t even realize what’s happening, and oh, there’s Justin’s lips on his own, gentle and hot and nice. This scene feels so oddly familiar to him, it’s kind of scary, the deja vu knocking on the door to his brain persistently like a salesman with a briefcase of samples.

But this time, there’s also a non-familiar part, something he doesn’t entirely expect at all.

Justin just presses forward, topples him down onto the couch, and climbs onto him, weight balanced comfortably on the tops of his thighs. And when Zhengting glances sleepily next to him, there’s his laptop sitting on the coffee table.

“...What,” he murmurs, groggily, “are you doing?” There’s a little nagging voice at the back of his head that tells him he needs to push Justin off, he’s overstepping their boundaries, but Zhengting’s also simultaneously too warm and comfortable to do so, simultaneously too muddled to properly realize what’s happening, and simultaneously enjoying the weight on his body a little too much.

“You look so nice when you sleep,” Justin murmurs, leaning forward, his palms on Zhengting’s chest, his lips just a few centimeters away. He smiles, sweetly, and presses another kiss firmly onto Zhengting’s lips.

Zhengting doesn’t protest, just lazily flicks his tongue into Justin’s mouth, because for some reason he just can’t bring himself to care. Or rather, his head is bouncing back and forth between two decisions. Either bring himself to raise a hand and push Justin away, or just give up and do whatever.

But his internal debate is all kind of erased when he feels Justin smile against his lips, a little huff of a laugh tumbling out, and Zhengting just brings a hand up to cradle the side of his face, pulling at his bottom lip, smiling too because Justin’s still a little too eager for his own good, too young and inexperienced and Zhengting wants to do nothing but curb that innocence and polish it.

Justin pulls back, licking his own lips kittenishly, and says, “I wanted to do that before.” He tilts his head cheekily, running his thumb across Zhengting’s cheek, and adds, “I wondered how it felt to be like this.”

“...What?” Zhengting asks, his voice now a little clearer.

Justin giggles. “You thought it was a dream,” he whispers, bumping his nose against Zhengting’s.

And then it all makes sense.

That night, when they were watching the Gala. Zhengting wasn’t dreaming -- it was all real life.

Justin notices the look of realization pass over Zhengting’s face, and he giggles again. “It took you so long,” he notes, grinning, as he runs a hand through the hair at Zhengting’s temple. “I was wondering whether you’d figured out or not.”

Zhengting sighs and looks away. “Geez,” he murmurs, “you caused me so much distress.”

“Sorry,” Justin apologizes, but then he smiles slyly the next moment, leaning in closer. “Hey,” he whispers, “let me fix that for you.”

“...What?” Zhengting asks, for the third time that day. And then, just a second later, the realization of what’s happening passes through his conscious, and he begins, “You need to--” but Justin doesn’t give him a chance.

He just kisses him, roughly, feverishly, and dear lord, Zhengting can’t deny that he’s been wanting this to happen -- it’s just a matter of how and when.

But he reaches up a hand, grabbing at the collar of Justin’s shirt, and presses him back. “What’re you doing?” he whispers. “Isn’t this overstepping the rules we put up?”

Justin smiles knowingly. “It’s been a few months,” he replies, simply. “And besides, Uncle Seunghyuk isn’t here. It’s just _you and me_.”

“Justin, I--” Zhengting begins, but Justin doesn’t let him reply, just bites on his lower lip teasingly, and then runs his teeth and lips on the underside of Zhengting’s jaw, smiling all the way. “W-What in the world?” Zhengting stutters out, because the boldness which Justin moves is entirely unsettling, and normally it’s not the boy who takes ahold of these situations…

“I’m not an idiot,” Justin replies. “And nor am I twelve.” He cocks his head, teasingly, and smiles against Zhengting’s neck. “I’ve been waiting for something like this for _so long_.”

And then it hits Zhengting. He’s obviously not the only one struggling with his, ah, _physical_ needs.

Justin grabs his wrist, slides his palm onto his waist, and Zhengting shakes from the sudden contact. But Justin laces their fingers together, holding Zhengting’s hand there, and lets out a soft breath.

Zhengting is being lit on fire from both ends of his body. He doesn’t know what the hell to do -- does he cave in to the current situation, because Justin just seems so _willing_ and so _tempting_ , or does he back out? The reasonable side of him is screaming, throwing things at him, saying that he’s falling and he needs to grab onto a ledge quick, but the _human_ side of him just tells him to give in, tells him he’s going to fall anyways, he might as well do it now and save the pain for later.

_He’s going to fall anyways._

With that idea in mind, he just grips harshly onto Justin’s hip, and the boy lets out a squeal at such a sudden force on his skin. And Zhengting begins to run his other hand underneath Justin’s shirt, just his over his back, the bone and muscle there wavering underneath his palm just as it did in his dream.

Justin makes all the nice little noises in the world. Zhengting doesn’t know if he’s doing that on purpose, just to add fuel to the fire that’s his skin right now, or if they’re unintentional and he’s just that… enticing.

But when he suddenly sits up and topples Justin down on the other side, he thinks they’re probably unintentional. Because Justin just laughs, wrapping his arms around Zhengting’s neck, one foot hooking onto the back of Zhengting’s thigh. This should be a bad idea, and if Zhengting stops now he can go back, but that notion hardly makes itself known in his conscious.

And when he looks at Justin beneath him, the front of his shirt riding up so that it exposes his stomach, his breath is lost.

He just places a palm on Justin’s stomach. The bone and muscle there move underneath his hand with every breath the boy takes.

Zhengting is so fascinated.

Justin’s breaths become heavier after that single moment. His mouth closes, his eyes widen, he stares up at Zhengting with a mixture of anticipation, excitement, surprise… and the one thing that makes Zhengting’s pulse flutter -- a little bit of _want_.

They stare at each other like that, for a couple of seconds, Zhengting with one palm placed on Justin’s stomach, right over his belly button, frozen because adrenaline has replaced the blood in his veins and his heart is suddenly in his stomach.

And then Justin smiles, pulls him down for another feverishly hot and wet kiss, one hand cradling the back of his head, and whispers, “You can do _anything you want_.”

Zhengting visibly swallows.

Justin runs his hand down the span of Zhengting’s neck, his gaze flitting up and down.

“You won’t hurt me.”

His palm smooths over Zhengting’s shoulder.

“Because I trust you. Entirely.”

He runs his hand over Zhengting’s chest and rests it above his right pec. He lifts his head just slightly, so that his lips are right over Zhengting’s ear.

“You can touch me if you want. _Please_.”

Zhengting is frozen. He’s frozen, and a little bit terrified. A little bit terrified, because at the moment, he’s being torn apart.

Is it a plea? Is it a command? Is it just Justin being meek? Is he just speaking like this because he’s caught up in the moment?

When Justin receives no reaction, he places his hand over Zhengting’s wrist and pulls, lifting it up. He presses it against his hip, right where the waistband of his pants are, and licks his lips. “ _Please_ ,” he whispers, again, blinking slowly, _wantonly_ , up at Zhengting. “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this in my head, how many times I’ve wished for this--”

And then he lifts up his other hand, running it over Zhengting’s bottom lip, tilting his head slightly as he watches his own movements. “Even before I knew that I liked you more than just as my friend. I was so confused, I was so desperate, I was so agitated and I--” He lifts himself up again, pressing his lips close to Zhengting’s ear. “I don’t know if I’ve wanted anything more,” he whispers, his breath hot, “ _please_. Touch me. Trust me, you won’t hurt me.”

Zhengting’s vision begins to shake. His whole body begins to shake.

“I…” he begins, his voice trembling violently.

And then his wrists fold beneath him, and he collapses.

He’s screaming at himself in the inside, just because of the decision he’s about to make. It’s hurting both himself and his conscious.

“I c-can’t,” he chokes out, his head hanging, “I can’t, Justin, I can’t.”

Justin tilts his head, clearly confused. “Why?” he asks. “Why? I told you, you can trust me. You can trust yourself, you won’t hurt me.”

 _No_ , Zhengting thinks, _I’ve already hurt myself. I’m not risking hurting you._

“I’m so, so, so guilty,” Zhengting murmurs, sitting up on his shins and covering his eyes with his palm, “I can’t touch you, I just can’t bring myself to, no matter how much you or I want to.”

“Why?” Justin asks again. There’s an edge of frustration peeking through his voice, and Zhengting winces. “You love me, I love you, and I _told_ you, I imagined you so many times--”

“That doesn’t matter!” Zhengting exclaims, grinding his teeth. Both his head and his chest feel like they’re ripping each other apart, and then when he lifts his face and sees the absolutely startled, and even a little bit terrified look on Justin’s face, he just hates himself even more. “I just feel so _disgusted_ with myself, and I can’t live with it,” he mutters, slightly growling. “You’re a _kid_ , I can’t just walk into your life and have my way with you--”

“I _told_ you!” Justin interrupts, roughly, grabbing Zhengting’s wrist and pulling it off of his face.

Zhengting shakes before completely freezing. He’d never expected this kind of reaction from Justin, someone who never directly confronts anyone. The boy has an iron grip on his wrist, with a strength Zhengting never even knew he was _capable_ of possessing.

“Why are you not listening to me?” Justin asks, gritting his teeth, almost spitting his words, as Zhengting stays completely frozen in place. “How many times do I have to reiterate to you, that you’re not doing what you think you’re doing? I'm not some child who can't think for himself, I'm not someone who's strung along so easily! So you’re not taking advantage of me! I can see the want in your eyes, Zhengting, you want this as much as I do, but there’s some damn block in your head. Why are you doing this to me? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just listen to me for once? Why is it--”

Zhengting abruptly pulls his wrist away from Justin’s grip and nearly falls off of the couch as he clamors to his feet. “I-I can’t have this conversation with you,” he stutters out. His heart is racing, he can’t comprehend any reasonable thought, and Justin’s reaction had completely and utterly _terrified_ him. “I just can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t--”

Justin sees the absolutely torn expression on his face, showcasing a true look of both internal and external pain. He realizes the effects of the words he’d said, and his expression instantly changes from frustrated to completely contrite. The next moment, he stands up, one hand out, his lip trembling, and tries to reach Zhengting. “Zhengting,” he says, his voice choked, “I’m sorry, please, I didn’t--”

But Zhengting has already opened the door, walked out, and slammed it closed, right as Justin was saying he was sorry.

* * *

“God, what the hell?” Seunghyuk exclaims, when a bunch of keys hit him in the face.

“Get up,” Zhengting says, his voice monotonous and strained. “You’re driving.”

“...What?” Seunghyuk asks, sitting up. With a jingle, the keys drop to his lap. “Wait, where are we going?”

“Just get up,” Zhengting repeats, biting down on his jaw. His whole body is tensed, his fingers are curled into fists at his side, and the only thing he wants right now is for Seunghyuk to just listen to him and do as he says.

Seunghyuk seems to notice his friend’s rather sharp deviation in demeanor. He stays silent, but his mouth, which was once hanging slightly agape, quickly closes itself. They stare at each other, jaws tensed and muscles braced, until Seunghyuk finally speaks. “...Okay,” he replies, quietly, after a few moments. “Okay, just tell me where to go.”

And then when Zhengting collapses on a bar stool, his elbows leaning against the wood of the table, a wild grin appears on his face. Seunghyuk stares at him strangely, and he swallows, because the sharp change in atmosphere around his friend is highly unsettling.

“Hey,” Zhengting says, roughly, that same grin still on his lips, “you said you wanted the old me back. Well, here he is.” And then he waves over the bartender, asking for a whole round of shots.

Seunghyuk placed a hand on his friend’s wrist. “Jung Jung…” he begins, slowly, a hesitant look on his face, “are you sure you’re okay?”

Zhengting just waves him off. “Whatever, I’m fine,” he replies, hastily. He throws his head back and laughs, the sound harsh and grating. “Why are you asking questions? Isn’t this what you wanted? To go out drinking with me?”

“Well, yeah,” Seunghyuk replies, softly. His voice is almost drowned out by the sounds of the people and the clinking of glasses around them. “But not… not when there’s clearly something off about you.”

“Are you saying something is _wrong_ with me?” Zhengting asks, incredulously, his voice pitched so low, almost a growl.

Seunghyuk instantly backs off. “Woah, woah, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, holding up his hands. He sighs the second after, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, uh, just don’t hurt yourself.”

Zhengting snorts. The bartender scoots a plate over to him, and on it are seven shot glasses, all filled with some clear alcohol that Seunghyuk has no clue about.

 _Too late_ , Zhengting thinks, as he lifts a shot glass to his lips, and pours it down his throat all in one go. He swallows it with ease, although the liquid does feel like it’s burning his esophagus to some degree. But he smiles the second after, and reaches for another glass.

Seunghyuk grabs his wrist.

“ _What_?” Zhengting starts, gritting his teeth. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Jung Jung,” Seunghyuk begins, carefully, his voice hesitant. “What did you order?”

“That’s absolutely none of your concern,” Zhengting replies, gruffly. He shakes Seunghyuk’s hand off harshly, almost slamming his friend’s hand into the table, before quickly downing another shot.

Seunghyuk watches him down shot after shot after shot, until he’s at his sixth glass.  And then, he begins to speak.

“...It’s eating away at you, isn’t it.”

Zhengting ignores him.

“You can’t kill it by pouring alcohol on it, you know.”

Zhengting downs his seventh shot.

“Please, tell me.”

Zhengting asks for another round.

“Stop doing this to yourself, Jung Jung, _please_.”

He was already long gone by his seventh shot. There’s only so much strong alcohol a person can take in such a short time. His vision is already blurry, his face is already hot, his limbs are already shaking violently, his breathing labored as if he were clutching onto his last straw of life. There’s nothing he wants to do but forget, forget how easily he manipulates, and forget how easily he’s been manipulated. There was one thing in the world that he never wanted to do, but he ended up doing it anyway. Could he have prevented it? Yes, he could. But he gave in _yet again_.

And this time, not only did he hurt himself _again_ , but he just ended up nailing Justin in the head as well.

The image of his terrified face, the way he so angrily gripped Zhengting’s wrist, the way he spat his words, they play over and over again in Zhengting’s mind. Zhengting doesn’t even know what he’s doing, or what he’s thinking, because there’s such an ugly ball of emotions in the pit of his stomach. He’s not sure if he’s angry, or he’s sad, or he’s lonely, or he’s regretful. He figures, he might as well be all. And he also knows, that he doesn’t want to think about them at all. At this point in his life, he thinks he regrets the relationship. He regrets it, because it absolutely ruined the nice building blocks that he and Justin put up together. The nice relationship they had, where they were both happy, and Zhengting could live his life without constant guilt and constant doubt.

And Justin could not hate him. He could not be afraid of him. Justin is the last person in the world Zhengting wants to be scared of him.

Zhengting is an adult. He has power. Whatever he says, whatever he does, they’ll always reflect in some way off of Justin, because he is a kid. In relationships like this, no matter how insistent the younger one is on believing that the relationship is born out of a good ideal, someone always gets strung along. Someone always gets manipulated, someone always ends up being hurt, and then it all falls apart in the end. Especially if the adult has so much power over the younger one, especially if with the utter of a single phrase, they can change things completely.

Zhengting realizes it fully now. At the beginning, he just thought he was Justin’s caretaker, he just makes sure the kid is healthy and alive and happy.

But he realizes his responsibility is more than that. Or rather, he holds more power than he initially thought.

He can basically dictate how Justin’s life goes, and it scares him to think like that. When Victoria handed all the power over her son to him, he just thought he could poke at it, touch it like it’s just simply another trophy in a display case, and things would be okay. He wouldn’t break it, he wouldn’t bend it, as long as he kept it in its original condition, it would just sit there, looking pretty, as another possession he holds.

But, it’s not simply another possession. It’s something he has to be careful with, because it has a precious balance.

He has to keep the balance between a figure of trust and a figure of companionship. But most importantly, a figure of _responsibility_ , because he has to be responsible and know when to exercise the power of being an adult, the power of being a caretaker, the power of being a _parent_ properly.

It’s not like he’s been doing any of that. Well, maybe at first, but things just spiraled downward.

It’s an unhealthy cycle, and Zhengting is forever spinning around in it.

The bartender places another plate of shot glasses in front of him, and he instantly grabs his eighth shot. He downs it, quickly. He makes it through three more shots, before a hand roughly grabs his wrist.

He doesn’t even notice it, just tilts the glass down, as if his lips were there to catch it, and it spills onto the knee and thigh of his jeans. All his senses are so lost and muddled with each other. Not a single one of them is discernible, except for maybe his sense of taste.

“That’s it,” Seunghyuk growls, “you’re done. You’re done for tonight. I’m not going to let you slowly kill yourself.”

He feels himself being pulled by his arm, off of the barstool, which scrapes against the floor and makes a sharp, squeaking noise. It grinds his ears, grinds his head, and he winces, shutting his eyes painfully closed.

He feels himself being draped over the back of someone. He feels the cold, biting night air hit his face, and he groans, because it makes his skin so painful, as if it were peeling off of his face. He reaches up a hand, clawing at himself, only for it to be slapped harshly away.

He feels himself being dumped on something soft but firm, and then a hand grabs at his collar, lifting his neck up. He feels the back of his neck crack, and he coughs sharply.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Seunghyuk growls, right in his face.

He can’t do anything but make incomprehensible noises that replicate the pain he feels all over his body and right in his head.

“You absolute fucking idiot. You’re already basically drunk as fuck and it’s just been barely over an hour. Why do I have to deal with this shit? I swear to fucking god, if you don’t give me an explanation when you’re finally fucking sober, I will beat the shit out of you.”

There’s a pause, and the only thing Zhengting can make out, even a little bit clearly, is the sound of labored breathing.

“Do you hear that, you bastard?”

Another pause.

“Whatever. I’m probably going to end up beating the shit out of you anyways. This’ll be nice, I need something to divert my attention from all the fucking bullshit you’ve been pulling on yourself.”

He feels himself being thrown back onto whatever surface he’s laying on, and the sound of a door slamming shut.

Zhengting closes his eyes the last barest millimeter he needed, engulfing himself in complete darkness. He nods off for who knows how long, but when he wakes, he’s being lifted by his collar again.

“Can you even fucking walk properly?” Seunghyuk asks, his grip iron.

Zhengting blinks his eyes rapidly. Keeping his head properly aligned with his neck is a little bit difficult. “I…” he begins, his voice hoarse.

Seunghyuk pulls him out into the cold night air, and promptly releases his grip on his shirt.

Zhengting can barely keep his knees from folding beneath him. He stumbles, grabbing onto Seunghyuk’s jacket as he’s braced forward, one hand on his knee.

“At least you can stand. Now, can you walk?”

And when Seunghyuk gets no response, he nudges the back of Zhengting’s heel with his toe.

Zhengting stumbles forward, his balance just barely catching him.

He hears Seunghyuk sigh behind him. The next thing he notices is a hand on his elbow, guiding him as he trips forward, his knees and ankles threatening to fold under him every step he takes. He hears a lock turning, he hears a click, and he hears a door opening. And suddenly, he’s thrown inside a place that’s warm, a place that’s so bright and so yellow, it hurts his head to even _see_.

“Just go fucking sleep or something. I’ll go check up on the kid upstairs and see if he’s alright.”

Zhengting hears the door being shut behind him, the cold air on his back dissipating.

He barely makes it to his counter, leaning on it with one hand braced atop the cool marble, his head hanging. “God…” he grumbles, grimacing.

And then he feels a pair of hot palms on his cheek. They’re too hot, his face is already hot, and now it’s positively _burning_.

“Are you okay?”

The voice is whispered, wispy and thin and hesitant.

Zhengting looks up.

There’s Justin staring back at him, his eyes impossibly wide and round. They catch on the light, shiny and black, almost comically so.

Zhengting slaps Justin’s hands away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, “I can’t speak to you. Why are you even here? This is my place.”

Justin takes a sudden step back. “I just…” he begins, softly, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I’m so sorry, Zhengting, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said--”

“Sure,” Zhengting laughs, his voice slightly raspy. He rolls his head, and his neck cricks again, but he can’t be bothered with the pain. He glances up in front of him. All he wants to do is sink in a hole right now, be away from everyone and everything. He doesn’t want to be aware of any of this, he doesn’t want to be aware of his own thoughts.

He sees the bottle of _baijiu_ sitting on his counter, one leftover from one of his and Seunghyuk’s drinking nights. It’s nearly full.

And without any hesitation, he grabs it, wrapping his fingers around the neck, and pulls out the cork. He brings it up to his lips, tilts his head back, and lets it pour down his throat.

At this point in his life, the burning sensation is calming to him. It’s calming, because it gives him something to focus on besides the problems in his life.

“What are you doing?” Justin asks, one foot still placed behind him. His hands are in front of him, wrists bent and hands hanging.

Zhengting doesn’t answer his question. “Why are you here?” he asks, again, after drinking all he possibly can. His hand is shaking, shaking so violently that he couldn't even hold the bottle properly, and dribbles of _baijiu_ are sliding off of his chin.

“I…” Justin begins, his voice having gone almost silent.

“Leave,” Zhengting orders. “Leave. There’s nothing for me or you to say.”

Justin bites his lip for a moment, before crossing his arms. “No,” he retorts. “No, I absolutely refuse to.”

And then Zhengting doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do besides let out a choked sob, biting his hand between his teeth, and walk away. He hurriedly walks down his hallway, and to his dismay, there’s the sound of socked feet behind him. “No!” he cries, “Please, just go.”

“Why are you pushing me away?” Justin exclaims, his voice desperate, “What did I do wrong?”

 _Nothing_ , Zhengting thinks, _the only one that’s done anything wrong is me. I let myself get too far ahead._ But he doesn’t say anything, instead he just crashes into his bathroom, slamming the door behind him, and locking it, the bottle of _baijiu_ still in his hand. He just downs the rest of it in one go, and lets the bottle drop to the floor, where it shatters with an ear-piercing crash.

There’s a bang on the door the second later, the handle shaking violently. “Zhengting,” Justin shouts, “what are you doing? Let me in!”

Zhengting can’t do anything but lean over his sink, his shoulders hunched, and stare. Stare at what a mess he’s made of himself, his hair all disheveled, his face sunken, his eyes bloodshot, his lips dry and cracking. He growls at himself, bringing up a hand to cover one half of his face.

 _I’m one hell of an entitled asshole_ , he thinks.

There’s another sharp bang against the door. “ _Please_ ,” Justin pleads, “are you okay? I heard a crash. God, Zhengting, what are you doing to yourself?”

_What are you doing to yourself?_

His eyes hurt at that moment. He feels wetness gathering at the edges of his vision, mixing all the colors in front of him. It hurts, it hurts him physically to cry like this, like there are wounds in his eyes and he's crying his blood. He could be, because he feels his life draining out of him at that moment, and he turns and slides to the ground, his back against the counter.

Justin is still pounding at the door, his voice more desperate than ever. There's a sliding sound against the wood, and Zhengting is too tired to care, too hurt to care, too hateful at himself to care.

He buries his hands into the cool tile of his bathroom floor. He doesn't even feel the pain from the edges of glass digging into his skin, he doesn't even feel his flesh crying rivulets of blood, because it all becomes a muddled mess to him.

There's a scrabbling noise at the door, as if someone were clawing desperately at the wood, digging their fingernails into the crack between the door and its frame.

“ _Please_ ,” he hears, the voice whispered, “I don't want you to hurt anymore.” And then there's another bang, but this time it's dull, kind of like a heavy stone falling on the carpet.

Zhengting closes his eyes, and wills himself into darkness.

His last thought is, _If only I never fell in love_.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, he wakes up feeling the worst he's ever felt his whole life.

There's a dull throbbing at his right hand, and when he lifts it up, he sees dried blood crusted all over the shards of glass that are buried into his palm. He can't bring himself to care.

Slowly, he gets up. All his joints creak and complain -- he truly feels as if they're grinding against each other. But he still stands up anyways, because the pain is all over his body at this point, and it becomes some numb sensation to him.

He unlocks the door and opens it.

Everything is quiet. Peaceful. His surroundings are light. It's clearly daytime.

He wanders down his hallway, and when he gets to his living room, there's Seunghyuk sleeping on the floor next to the couch. As if nothing happened the previous night.

And Zhengting believes that for a moment, because everything is just so oddly...normal. Was it all just a dream?

But Seunghyuk quickly sits up, having heard Zhengting's footsteps and sensed someone behind him.

The instant he sees Zhengting, he glares, opening his mouth. But when he notices the dried blood and glass and general mess that his friend is, he shuts his mouth and stares.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” he begins, his voice somber. “But lets first get that glass out of your hand.”

Zhengting doesn't say anything. He follows Seunghyuk like a shadow, just letting his friend do whatever he wants. He doesn't even wince when Seunghyuk carefully extracts pieces of glass from his skin, he doesn't even twitch when Seunghyuk runs alcohol over the wounds.

And then when his friend is finishing pinning the gauze on his limb, Seunghyuk looks up in surprise.

Zhengting slowly turns around.

There's Justin, standing at the corner.

“Good morning,” Seunghyuk greets. When he notices the utterly bewildered look the boy has on his face, he explains, “I found you asleep in front of the bathroom door, so I carried you to Zhengting's bed.”

Justin just nods silently, standing there awkwardly.

“Go home,” Zhengting rasps out, his throat burning as he speaks. His words have no malice behind them, no sort of emotion besides extreme exhaustion.

And then when the door closes behind Justin, Zhengting heaves a breath, because he'd been holding it the whole time.

Seunghyuk sets his hands down gently on his lap. “Zhengting,” he begins, worriedly furrowing his brows, “you can't keep whatever this is hidden from me for any longer. What's going on?”

Zhengting bites his lip.

“I know it has to do with Justin. There were dried tears on his face when I found him.”

Zhengting takes a deep breath. He hopes he doesn't throw up on the spot. “I did something terrible to him,” he whispers, hanging his head. “I can't forgive myself.”

“What?” Seunghyuk asks, “What did you do?”

Zhengting closes his eyes, squeezing then shut tightly. He shakes his head slowly. “It's not something you or anyone else can help me with,” he mutters. “It's something I have to solve myself.”

“That doesn't mean I can't listen,” Seunghyuk points out. “I'm equally worried about both of you.”

Zhengting just shakes his head. “Seunghyuk,” he begins, “I can't tell anyone this because… because of the consequences. I could lose everything. I could lose my whole life if something happened.”

Seunghyuk places a hand reassuringly on Zhengting's arm. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, “I'm sorry to hear that. But Zhengting, I _need_ you to tell me, for the sake of both of us. I won’t say a word, I promise.”

Zhengting sighs, sliding a palm over his eyes. “It's all done and over,” he mutters, “there's nothing left I can say besides 'I’m sorry’. There's nothing you need to know besides the fact that I hurt Justin and I hurt myself even more.”

“You're not 'hurting’,” Seunghyuk states, crossing his arms and staring critically. “You're outright suffering. As your closest friend, I'm trying my best to help you here, but it's all in all draining the life out of me.” He stands up, suddenly, and walks a few paces away. But his footsteps stop abruptly, and without turning around, he says, his voice cold, “I'm getting rid of all the alcohol we have left over. I'm not letting you drinking away your problems become a habit.”

Zhengting sighs, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands.


	16. 贗

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i'm sorry for the late update, my wifi was down for a total of... 3-4 days? and i'm not risking posting from my work computer bc one time a coworker remote desktop'd into it while i was on both twitter AND ao3...

**贗:** _The sweetest things in life can also be things that you've conjured up in your head._

* * *

Justin's school ends the next two days, and Seunghyuk leaves for Beijing on Saturday.

All the while, Zhengting doesn't come out of his apartment except for the occurrence when Justin texts him and asks him for help with something. He will just quietly walk up, do whatever task he needs to, all while Justin watches him worriedly, and then go back to his own apartment. The boy even asks him if he's up for talking one afternoon, but Zhengting just shakes his head sorrowfully and says he still needs space to think.

He picks Victoria up from the airport on Thursday, and she's overjoyed to see him, but he can't reciprocate that emotion so well with the amount of guilt he has when he says eyes on her. He broke her trust, broke a promise he made to her.

She picks up on his desolation easily, asks him what is wrong, but Zhengting just shakes his head and replies that he's just tired. The summer heat is getting to him, his head is muddled.

Victoria doesn't believe him, of course, but she doesn't press onward. She hugs her son happily when she gets home, and Zhengting just slips out of the apartment quietly.

But Victoria calls him up to her apartment one evening. She sits him down next to her, and says, “I was in Thailand for a little longer than I needed to be because I ran into someone there.”

“Who?” Zhengting asks.

“Liying’s brother,” Victoria replies.

“Why would he bother contacting you?”

Victoria sighs, folding her hands in front of her. “Obviously, the woman herself doesn't want Junjie speaking to me, but my ex-husband wanted to send me a message.”

Zhengting stays silent, staring critically.

“He says he doesn't know what I did, but I did something. He thinks it was because I didn't give him wine, I gave him some stronger mix so that it'd react harsher with his medication.”

Zhengting closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “God,” he whispers, “is he going to do anything? Please don't tell me he's going to investigate.”

Victoria shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs, “but he blames me for what happened. They all blame me.” And then she smiles, sorrowfully, and holds Zhengting's hands in her own. “Rightfully so,” she adds. “Thank you so much for helping me, Zhengting. I suppose I don’t particularly care what they think about me, but I’m so grateful for the support you’ve given me.” She leans her head on his shoulder, throwing an arm around him. And then she adds, her voice soft and warm, “I know the berries are long gone, but I hope you’ve done something good with my love that I gave you.”

Zhengting bows his head, watching the fingers that lie on top of his knee curl and uncurl.

Yes, he’s done something with that love, but it’s not something good.

Single-handedly, in that fist of his, he’s crushed it.

And then he lifts his head and looks at Victoria. If there’s anybody in the world that he says he might love more than his own family, it’s her.

At that moment, he decides that he needs to do something.

He needs to own up to his own faults, needs to face one of his most terrifying fears. At that moment, the warmth of Victoria’s body against his, the contented way she hums, and the relaxation in her voice give him the strength needs to decide that he can no longer continue to hurt her.

* * *

Justin rests his chin on the top of Zhengting’s sofa, his arms dangling over the edge as he watches Zhengting move about back and forth between the dining area and his kitchen. When Zhengting glances out of the corner of his eye, the boy never changes position each time he looks, still staring intently with his eyes slightly narrowed, thinking about something.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Zhengting begins, shaking some tea leaves into the bottom of a cup.

“It’s alright,” Justin murmurs, “I understand. You need time to think. And again, I’m really, really, really s--”

Zhengting just sighs heavily, rubbing his face with a palm. “Leave it,” he says, “both of us have done enough apologizing for a while.”

Justin closes his mouth, chewing on his bottom lip apprehensively.

A minute or so later, Zhengting walks over, sitting down next to Justin as he waits for the water to boil. “Obviously, I want to talk,” he begins, slowly, and Justin nods. “I just want to tell you that I can’t do this anymore.”

There’s silence between them, long and tense, thick enough to slice with a knife.

Zhengting expects Justin to protest, expects him to try to talk him out of his decision, expects him to maybe even throw a fit. But he gets no response, and he begins to say something else when the boy finally speaks.

“Okay,” Justin says, his voice quiet.

Zhengting frowns. “‘Okay’?” he asks.

“Isn’t that the response you wanted to hear?”

Zhengting freezes. He stares incredulously at Justin. The words he just said, they would generally be seen as sarcastic and bitter. But Justin, now, Justin just blinks at him blankly, not a hint of noticeable emotion on his face. His tone hadn’t been particularly acidic, but it hadn’t been particularly curious like an actual question might sound.

And besides, was that the answer Zhengting wanted to hear? He doesn’t know.

They stare at each other, silently, the room frozen, as if suspended in time. Someone only moves when the water begins to boil. And then, when Zhengting comes back with two mugs of tea, Justin stares at his hands resting on his knees.

“You know,” he begins, softly, “this won’t change the fact that I’ll still love you.” He looks at Zhengting, his lips pursed, mouth slightly agape. “It will only delay things.”

“You can find someone else,” Zhengting replies, simply. “You’re young. You’re in high school. There’s plenty of people that you could take an interest in, or vice versa, and there’s plenty of time for you form an actual relationship. An actual _solid and stable_ relationship. I’m going to be attached to my work. I’m going to earn money, pay bills, do taxes, come back home to a drink and more responsibilities. There’s absolutely nothing I can provide for you in terms of an actual relationship.” He holds out his hands at his sides, palms facing up. “It’s not just a matter of the fact that I don’t want to harm anyone. It’s also a matter that we’re in two entirely different worlds.” And the next second, he reaches out his hand, tucking a lock of Justin’s hair behind his ear, and murmurs, “Please listen to me on this. Please do me a favor and give your attention to something that’s not me, because for the both of us, at least for the time being, this is not going to work. Be happy, and find happiness in something else. Whether it may be a person, a hobby, or just something else, I don’t know. But if you do that, I promise that I’ll be happy with whatever decision you make as well.”

Zhengting’s fingers, they fall on Justin’s cheek, just wavering there for a moment before he pulls back his hand. Even just from a few brushes of his fingertips, he’s managed to pick up how soft his skin there, and it reminds him of the first time he held Justin’s face in his hand.

There’s a dull pang in his chest, like he’s handing over an heirloom of his to a stranger’s hand, untrusting and apprehensive. But he washes out that feeling with his own mind, washes it out so that his heart is squeaky clean and unmarred again.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going to detach myself from you,” he adds, quietly, when Justin gives him no response besides a few blinks and an emotionless stare. “I’ll still be here. I’ll still be here for you, but just as the person that I was supposed to be in the first place. Your caretaker.”

A few seconds after Zhengting stops speaking, Justin begins to slowly reach out his hands, cradling Zhengting’s head in his palms, the touch light, gentle, as if he were holding something precious and frail in his grip. “Remember,” he begins, tilting his head to the side just slightly, “remember when you were happy being with me?” And when he receives no reply, he murmurs, “I’ll never forget when I was happy being with you.”

Zhengting just smiles. “That’s alright,” he says. “As long as you understand why I’m doing this.”

He just nods and close his eyes. “I’m tired,” he murmurs, after several seconds, and Zhengting just laughs softly, petting his head, and tells him to go sleep.

* * *

It’s impossible to not walk backwards after making a decision like that.

Well, Zhengting doesn’t know how far backwards they’ve gone, but it kind of reminds him of when Justin was less attached to him and more just friendly. Sure, they’ll lounge casually on the couch together, eat together, go grocery shopping together, but Justin no longer sidles up to his side and rest his legs on Zhengting’s lap. He’ll keep a distance, a comfortable distance, and immerse himself in his own thoughts.

Zhengting understands. They both need space to recuperate, but he can’t help but miss the little shows of affection they gave each other. After all, that’s quite normal for close friends. They’re still friends, and still close, but are they _that_ close now?

He’ll glance at Justin and wonder why some of what they had just had to wash itself down the drain. Where’s the hugs he gets, where’s the drowsily happy murmurs in his ear? Where’s the cheeky remarks, where’s the arm linking, where’s the curling up together on the sofa to watch badly done action movies and eat through all of the supply of junk food in one go?

And there’s the other part of him, the part of him that he loathes, that acknowledges the fact that he’s not the only one who simply cannot forget the time when they were happy being together, happy being something more than friends, more attached and lured together than just two individuals that live intertwined lives.

But even worse, that part of him recognizes that he’s also just plainly and simply, _in love_. He told Justin he won’t detach himself, and that’s right, he won’t, but simultaneously he just _can’t_ . He’s never felt this kind of love for someone, not for a single one of the relationships he’s been in the past, not even for that one girl he dated for a whole two years and thought he was going to marry one day. It’s not an intense love, per se, not passionate and fiery (although, sometimes his thoughts are, but that’s a story to save for an entirely other time). It’s kind of like a heart, he realizes, a second heart he has, pulsing in his chest, just as alive as he is. It’s a heart consisting of a mix of emotions, things friendly like the desire to take care of and the desire to protect, but also things that are little more than that, like a heavy feeling of affection, an absolute giddiness in his body when Justin smiles at him -- signs that he _knows_ are not normal for people whose relationship is just simply platonic.

And it hurts him a little bit each time he tears his eyes away, retracts that hand he’s reaching out away, closes his mouth with words depicting thoughts that wish for more hanging on the tip of his tongue.

But he just tells himself it’s not as painful as dealing with the constant guilt and doubt that ate away at him when he was navigating this relationship with Justin with nothing but a free rein and an averted gaze.

The feeling, the feeling of being able to do anything he wanted, because he had so much control, he can relate it to the time Xuanyi just told him to teach the class for her. Being handed so much power, but simultaneously so much _responsibility_ , it sent him reeling, because he didn’t know what to do with it. He didn’t want to screw things up, but he simultaneously wanted to poke at that flame and see what would happen.

Well, Zhengting had been poking at it, and then it exploded and lit the whole damn forest on fire.

But he can deal with this. He’ll be okay. He’ll ask Seunghyuk for recommendations on how to deal with boners and tell his friend that he really doesn’t want whatever real kinky porn Seunghyuk likes. Just something to get him off so he can survive.

Everything’s better, he tells himself. He can feel less guilty when he looks at Victoria. He can feel less guilty when he looks at himself in the mirror. He can finally focus his thoughts and his energy into something more important than his own worries.

He can feel less negative about everything. He can build back up that trust in himself that he’s torn down, build back up the one Seunghyuk has in him, and even though Victoria doesn’t know that hers has collapsed, build back up that one as well.

Things go back to normal, he feels. Victoria certainly hasn’t noticed anything -- or, if she did, she hasn’t said a single word. He manages to repair his relationship with Seunghyuk, although his friend gave him a lot of shit for it. Through that gritted smile, Zhengting can see that he’s actually happy, and when Seunghyuk finally relents and says he forgives him, he goes on to spew sappy stories about his dates with Xuanyi, and Zhengting automatically chokes because Seunghyuk and sappy _do not_ belong in the same sentence, or even in the same story.

And he finally drags himself out of his apartment and goes out with his friends. His lab buddies are still there--although barely, since some have already moved out to go back to their home cities or have found work somewhere else--and he can finally enjoy drinking without the notion of wanting to get himself stupidly drunk because he can’t deal with real life.

Yixuan even sets him up a date with a girl he met through his little sister. She’s quite a likeable person, not as flighty as Xuanyi, more like Ms. Meng, someone who talks a lot and likes to dote on others. But Zhengting just can’t imagine himself liking her as more than a friend for some reason, even though she fits into the category of “very dateable” for him.

Well, he kind of does know the reason.

Whenever he thinks of love, he thinks of that second heart in his chest, beating alongside his human heart. It’s the heart he has for Justin, and even though they’ve only known each other for a year, a year is long enough to completely change a person and rebuild them.

And on the second date he has with this girl Yixuan introduced to him, they’re about to part ways on the sidewalk outside the restaurant they’ve just eaten at, when she asks, “Zhengting, there’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“...What?” he asks, completely caught off guard.

She laughs, her voice tinkling in the warm summer air. “I’m not oblivious,” she replies. “You don’t look me directly in the eyes when we’re talking sometimes. You seem kind of far-off when you speak about yourself, like you’re not thinking about yourself, but you’re thinking about someone else. And you’re just kind of detached in general.”

“...Oh,” he murmurs, and then laughs, embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, really, I’ll pay attention more--”

But she just shakes her head. “It’s alright,” she reassures. “I know what being in your spot feels like. Where there’s a person that you love but you’re trying to move on, right? But they just keep coming back into your head, and it’s painful to deal with.” She smiles, and her expression is calm, bolstering, almost in a motherly way. Yes, Zhengting realizes, she very much likes to dote on people. “You’re a really great guy. But if you’re going to be like this the whole time, then I think it’s best that we just give up.”

Zhengting gulps. “Uh,” he begins, unsure of what to say.

“It’s no problem,” she laughs. “It’s better that we stop things before we figure out we’ve both wasted our time. But hey, if you finally get yourself to move on sometime later, and I’m still single, feel free to contact me, yeah?”

Zhengting just swallows again, nodding slowly, and murmurs, “Yeah. Okay, that works.”

And then later that night, Yixuan berates him over the phone for not telling him that he’d been in a relationship the whole time. But what’s Zhengting supposed to say? That his relationship was illegal, and it was with someone who he was supposed to have _parental_ feelings towards, and _not_ romantic?

Yixuan even throws the “I swear, were you dating Xuanyi this whole time?” thing at him, but Zhengting just rolls his eyes, tells Yixuan she’s dating Seunghyuk now, but instead Yixuan just starts gasping and asks Zhengting if he’s ever gotten in a fight with Seunghyuk over who gets Xuanyi’s hand. So that’s when Zhengting hangs up and decides he’ll punch Yixuan the next time he sees him.

But then, Justin walks over, asks him why he’s laughing so hard, and Zhengting stops laughing before saying, “Nothing.”

Yeah, nothing all right.


	17. 關

**關:**   _The end of a journey allows weary travelers to west._

* * *

Justin asks him, “What did my mom do to my dad?”

Zhengting’s eyes widen. “Wait, _what_?” he asks, incredulously, looking up from his laptop.

Justin hangs over the top of his couch casually. “Hmm,” he begins, glancing upwards momentarily. “It’s been bothering me, and I really want to know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zhengting replies, immediately.

“And I don’t know why you’re lying to me so much,” Justin states, folding his hands on top of each other and resting his chin atop them. “I heard you. The walls are thin, and I’m not dumb.”

Zhengting startles, staring over incredulously at where he’s sitting at his dining table. He squints slightly, trying to determine if Justin just tried to insult him or not, and what exactly he meant with what he said -- is there an undertone of bitterness to his words, or it something else?

But really, Zhengting should’ve just taken everything literally, because that’s who Justin is.

“First it’s the whole thing with my dad in the first place. Why, Zhengting, _why_ in the world would you keep something so important away from my knowledge? And even right now, I don’t know what it was about in the first place! All I know is that I was right and that he was causing trouble for you and my mom, but causing trouble over what? And then my mom did something to him to make him stop bothering you guys, but _what_?” Justin sighs, closing his eyes for a moment and furrowing his brows. He sounds exasperated, tired, and a little bit irritated. “I wouldn’t care if you lied to me about something as trivial as misstating the ingredients in the porridge, but this -- this is something so critical that I simply can’t ignore the fact that you _lied_ about it.”

Zhengting gulps, lost for words. He knows he should say something, or at least _do_ something, but his brain is completely empty at the moment.

“The least you can do is tell me, Zhengting.” And then Justin lifts his head up from his hands, his stare cold and hard and unrelenting, and states, “I don’t know what you and my mom have been discussing, but my dad is now _blind_ in one eye. I have a very logical reason, a _right_ , to know.”

It’s several moments of highly uncomfortable silence before Zhengting speaks because Justin’s staring, almost glaring, at him is starting to make his skin itch. The first thing he says, he feels, its answer should very well determine the course of this conversation. “Ah,” he begins, quietly, “tell me the truth, Justin. How much do you like living with your mom?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Justin immediately replies, frowning.

But Zhengting just shakes his head. “Tell me, and depending on your answer I’ll tell you what that whole situation was about.”

“Well, that should be obvious,” Justin simply says, crossing his arms. “I like living with her. I don’t want anything else.”

“Okay,” Zhengting says. “Then, you do know that your mom loves you a lot, right? More than anyone else in the world?”

Justin rolls his eyes and sighs. “Yes, I’m quite aware,” he replies.

Zhengting smiles. “So what she did was that because she loves you so much, she did something so that you two could continue being together for the rest of your adolescence. And I did nothing but simply help her.”

“Okay,” Justin begins, slowly, “okay, but that doesn’t give me any specific information, and that’s what I’m looking for, Zhengting. It was obviously something bad. So, tell me the bad part.” He gets off of the couch, rounding the corner and approaching Zhengting, his footsteps light and silent. Like a cat carefully approaching a new territory, weight delicately balanced on its toes, its senses poised. “Tell me, please,” he says, his voice having fallen quiet, almost to a whisper when he stands in front of Zhengting, his hands held in front of him, wrists bent and hanging.

And Zhengting looks up, looks up at his face that has now turned into an expression of despondency, his eyes wide, pupils gleaming, rest of his features fallen slightly. Zhengting can do nothing but gulp, staring into those eyes, unblinking and frozen in his seat.

He remembers when Justin once looked at him with a similar expression, when Zhengting had been going off about Justin's misery, his loneliness, and how he now has someone that can support that burden with him. It was so long ago, it feels like a century ago to him, but the memory is as fresh and vivid in his mind, as if it only happened a minute ago. And there’s also that part of him that’s struck with a hammer, the part of his second heart that believes Justin is one of the most beautiful human beings he’s ever laid eyes on in his entire life. Sure, he’s very physically attractive, but what amplifies his features at that moment is this sense of attraction that Zhengting has, like he’s a fish with his eyes laid on the bait hooked to a lure -- a sense that stems from the fact that when Justin’s face is softer, or moreso his features much less tense without nervousness or anxiety or emotions one might think are relatively uncomfortable, he appears to be someone that just stepped out of a storybook.

Zhengting’s words are caught in his throat, but it’s not like he had words to say in the first place. The only comprehensible thought he can process at the moment is, _Snap out of it. This is an important conversation_.

But he’s not the only one that’s being slowly pulled by the magnet in the person he’s staring at.

There’s hands on his jaw, their touch soft and gentle, yet unwavering. Justin looks him directly in the eye, his voice whispered, his lips barely moving as he speaks. “Please,” he repeats, “please tell me the truth.”

Zhengting still can’t open his mouth. He just stares, his head tilted up, and he just watches Justin’s face get closer and closer, and soon he can see his entire reflection in those dark brown pupils, watching himself blinking slowly, his eyes the only part of his body moving. “Please,” Justin whispers, again, and his gaze has drifted down, staring at Zhengting’s lips, to where Zhengting can see the flutter of his eyelashes against his skin, stark with their dark color against his fairer complexion. He’s now so close, their lips are almost touching, and Zhengting can feel his breaths on his skin.

“Please,” Justin repeats. And when he speaks, Zhengting can feel the barest touches of movement against his lips, ticklish and delicate. Justin begins stroking his thumb against Zhengting’s jaw, the action slow and touch subtle, tender, dainty.

“I…” Zhengting begins, his voice just barely emerging from his throat, “I would never let you leave my side. Your mother wouldn’t either.”

A very faint smile appears on Justin’s lips. “I know,” he replies, simply.

“And that’s what he wanted to do,” Zhengting continues, his voice still the barest of a whisper, “he wanted you to leave our sides. And your mother just made sure that he had something else to occupy him.”

“... _What_?” Justin begins, his eyes widening even more, the volume of his voice rising. “Wait, you didn’t mean that she--”

And then Zhengting, without even thinking, just threads his fingers through Justin’s hair at the back of his head, his grip there firm and warm. “No,” he interrupts, “that doesn’t matter now.” He blinks, slowly, and adds, “All that matters, all that ever will, is that you’re still here.”

It’s not even him that makes the final move, but it is him that slides his other hand over Justin’s cheek, holding him close as their lips meet, just barely at first, but the pressure of their kiss increases gradually, and soon Zhengting is just absolutely _overwhelmed_ with all sorts of emotion at the moment, as if a tsunami wall of water has just washed over him. It’s so nostalgic, this kind of feeling, like his head is bursting from the deja vu of it, and that’s all he can think for a few moments as he languidly licks his way past Justin’s lips, the strokes of his tongue smooth and long. That feeling, so intense, it washes out all the little plans he made in the past several weeks, all the ones in which he told himself he’d lead a normal life for once, that he’d be okay, he’ll survive and finally move on eventually. A second thought invades his mind several seconds later -- rather, it’s not so much a thought, more like just a feeling, like somebody has just dropped a pot of ink in his body and it’s spreading throughout his blood.

It’s the feeling of something being so comfortable, so easy, so _right_. He feels, at that moment, that kissing Justin like this, slow and long and relaxed, with no sort of fire beneath his veins, his actions only fueled by that second pulsing heart in his chest, is what should be happening. Because his heart says so. Both of them.

And then Justin’s hands fall from his jaw when they pull back, but instead they gather at the collar of his shirt, bunching up the cotton in that area. “I’d never leave you,” he murmurs, their foreheads resting against each other. They stare at their own reflections in each other’s eyes, and it’s like some sort of agreement has just been reached-- _no,_ more like it’s just risen and slid out of its shallow grave--between them. “Never in my life,” Justin adds, “no matter what you say or do to me.”

Zhengting feels a pang inside his body at that moment.

“Thank you,” Justin whispers. “Thank you, Zhengting.”

* * *

Maybe, he thinks, he destined to live the next three-fourths of the year in guilt or something. Maybe this is the path he’s supposed to take.

In all of the folktales he’s been told as a kid, in all of the stories of love every child has learned ever since they were able to listen and comprehend, the stories that have ingrained themselves in Chinese culture, from stories as famous and time-worn as _liang zhu_ , the butterfly lovers, to stories that have persisted to remain a classic in modern media such as _feng qiu huang_ , the tale of two phoenixes, two people from different sides of a spectrum fall in love with each other. But there’s always a problem, a tragedy, some major conflict that tears them apart and throws them into the abyss. A misunderstanding maybe, or even very overplayed tropes such as a difference in status and war. But in the end, after an extreme resolution, something like a centuries-long wait, dual suicide, or a bridge pathed by magpies up in the heavens, they always find some way to meet again. Because either their love is so strong that they’ve proved its worth, or luck plays on their side. Or a combination of both. More often than not, it’s the former. There’s not so much fate in it, but to some degree every story like this has a play on fate -- interference by the gods, the ruling of nature, life and death situations.

So, Zhengting thinks, is this his play on fate? Given, there’s no extensive war plaguing the country and threatening to tear the nation apart or anything like that, but at one point in his life he himself felt like he was being torn apart. And then he thinks of how it felt when Justin kissed him like that while he was sitting at his dining table -- the feeling was just so _natural_ , to the point where his breath was taken away both literally and figuratively.

Is there even anything such as fate in the real world, though?

If there is such a thing as fate, does it apply to a moral right and wrong?

This is real life. Zhengting has to be careful where he’s putting his feet. Even just one _toe_ in the wrong direction, and things could go awfully, awfully awry. For one, jail is probably the last place he wants to land himself. And also, humans are fickle creatures. They judge without knowing a whole story, and they _especially_ judge based upon their _own_ morals. Sure, there’d be people that wouldn’t care, or even those that supported this relationship of his, but there’d be a whole lot more that would outright find him just as disgusting as he once (and still kind of does) found himself.

He needs to reconsider his whole life at this point. Is it worth it? He knows that yes, the relationship will be worth something in the future. But is it worth anything _right now_? As long as he is careful with himself, he thinks he’ll be okay and able to stave off some of that debilitating doubt he had previously. He and Justin need to be more cautious -- second chances are always better, right?

But there’s also not only the fact that they need to be careful for their own sanities, there’s also the fact that they need to be careful because of other people.

Zhengting doesn’t think Victoria has any clue about what kind of relationship he’s built with her son. But he knows that she thinks there’s something a little odd for sure, simply because of the amount of times he and Justin’s interactions have just gone completely up and down, akin to a little child who can’t decide if he likes chocolate or vanilla better, but his parents are forcing him to choose one so he throws a fit.

Victoria had asked him twice if he and Justin were fighting, however Zhengting just shook his head and always said he’s just tired and so he’s a little bit worn. But Victoria always gives him this half-incredulous look, like she understands but simultaneously she doesn’t. Obviously, some part of her doesn’t believe him, but she trusts him enough to sort things out himself. And that’s what he’s been doing, or at least _trying_ to do, with lots of trial-and-error and tears.

Ah, _tears_. At this point, he’s cried more in the past half year than he’s had his whole life. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, and he laughs at himself and buries his face in his hands. How terrible. Even Justin hasn’t cried this much, and he’s the teenager, the (more) hormonal one, and the (probably) less emotionally stable one.

Who the hell is the adult in the relationship at this point? Zhengting feels like both of them are children. It’s weird. Well, the stuff they’re doing certainly isn’t stuff children would do, he thinks, and laughs again.

He and Justin haven’t had a proper conversation ever since then. Really, Zhengting even sure what’s going on. He only knows that he feels entirely worn, but Justin’s slow approach to becoming once again more touchy with him is giving him a little more sense of energy in his life, if that makes any sense. It’s not like he needs to be picking up his feet anymore since it’s summer, but it’s still better to wake up before two in the afternoon.

With Victoria out of the apartment for almost the entire day, he kind of feels like a housewife now, because all he does is cook, eat, sleep, (occasionally) clean, and entertain the youngest member of the household. Or, maybe, he’s the one being entertained.

He’ll be lying on the couch, one arm hanging off the side, staring up at the ceiling drowsily, almost asleep. And then he’ll feel sometime poke at his shoulder, tell him to scoot over with a voice just as warm and groggy as he feels. So he’ll comply, shift himself over, and then there’ll be someone tucking themselves tightly up against his side, the feeling pleasant and mild, but most importantly, _stable_. He doesn’t even need to look over to know who it is. It’s a tight fit, both of them on the sofa, but it gives all the more reason for Justin to curl up his legs and his arms, and Zhengting will tuck an arm around him and fall asleep that way.

It becomes a sort of routine for them, to do things like this that don’t exactly fall within the lines of any sort of definition of the relationships Zhengting knows of. For sure, it’s not some kind of parental relationship. Yes, they’re friends, close friends, but you don’t exactly thread your fingers through your close friend’s hair, kiss them on the cheek, and then fall asleep with your head tucked underneath their chin. But simultaneously, they’re not really in a relationship relationship either -- not something you’d call “dating”, because that requires the entire relationship to be discussed and thought out, and both parties need to reach an agreement on what the hell is going to happen.

Zhengting likes this, he very much likes this very casual, just a little bit romantic situation they have going on. Yeah, sometimes lust does decide it wants to invade his blood stream, but at this point he’s figured out how to barely scrape by without putting anyone in harm’s way. It’s because he’s kind of discovered where exactly he needs to put his mindset.

Just think of this as physical reassurance, he thinks. Humans take comfort in skinship -- in holding hands, in hugs, in cuddling. It’s the same with actions at a different level of physical touch -- things like longer hugs, feeding each other, or even languid kisses.

And a few weeks later, that’s where he finds himself. People can take comfort in kissing, right?

He’s just sitting there, with Justin next to him, one of the boy’s legs looped over his. His palm is just pressed against Justin’s side, not really holding him in place, but moreso just a reassurance that he’s awake and that yes, Justin is actually there, skin hot, muscle and bone in his body shifting as he moves. They just kiss in this position, slowly and lazily, like there’s an endless amount of time in the world for them. It’s just a show of affection at this point, nothing that’s going to signify something more will happen, and Zhengting relishes the casuality of it, the fact that he can just sit there with his eyes half-closed and turn his brain off for a good twenty minutes as Justin begins by kissing the corner of his lips.

He knows it’s quite selfish of him to think like this, to just kind of _use_ Justin as a source of entertainment, but then again, both of them are using each other.

Justin is basically using him because he thinks he’s going to be in love for a long time and he’s using Zhengting as his way of exploring love. Zhengting is just tired and needs someone to temporarily fill that hole in his heart at this point.

And yes, he’s in love too, but he’s decided that right now, he’ll ignore it. It will disappear one day. That second heart of his will just beat itself to death. If it doesn’t, then let this story of his and Justin’s work its way out like some old Chinese love story, where things will turn out okay in the end because magic and fate and the gods.

It’s like a drug, almost, this relationship, and Zhengting almost forgets that with drugs, the consequences of using them hit thousands of times harder.

But worst of all, being addicted will always lead to two resolutions: you’re either going to have to quit and suffer for a long period of time, or you’re going to end up on your deathbed. Or both.

* * *

They’re both sleepy because it’s the late afternoon, and the summer heat hangs over the city like a blanket made of steam. He’s just lounging there on the sofa, his ankles crossed. But there’s Justin, half on top of him, resting the side of his cheek on Zhengting’s chest, lazily watching one of his feet move back and forth as it dangles over the edge of the cushions. And then he just pulls himself up a little bit, until his lips are right in front of Zhengting’s, and whispers, with an expression of relaxation, apathy, almost like he’s been drugged and the effects of the substance are just beginning to wear off of him, “Can I kiss you now?”

Zhengting doesn’t even need to say anything, he just rests his palm on the back of Justin’s head, and then he just works his mouth with Justin’s, an imprint of a smile on both of their lips.

But with this kind of situation, where both of them are put under some spell, they get lazy. They get _sloppy_.

And that’s how it happens.

That’s how both of them don’t really notice the lock to the door clicking as a key is turned. Or rather, they do notice it, but it takes a little bit of time to pull yourself out of a daze when your mind is just simply so foggy.

“... _What_?”

Zhengting’s heart skips a beat as he recognizes the voice. He rolls over just as Justin begins to clamor off of them, and they both half slide off of the couch in an entirely clumsy fashion, and Justin ends up banging his shin on the glass coffee table. But he grits his teeth, wincing, and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a frustrated “tch”.

Zhengting doesn’t know where to look. He sits there, on his shins, shaking his head rapidly because he’s just so lost on what to do. Does he sit there and try to explain himself to _Victoria_ staring at him with an entirely unnameable expression on her face, or does he turn and see if Justin is okay?

But he supposes that answer is already decided for him.

“What the _hell_ are you two doing?” Victoria asks. She’s still got one hand on the doorknob, her body posture extremely stiff. Zhengting can’t tell if she’s more surprised or more angry, but the tone of her voice is icy cold.

The only thing he can do there is sit there and swallow. He’s feeling kind of dizzy, his palms beginning to sweat.

“When I said it’s best if you become close with my son, I didn’t mean you _take advantage_ of him,” Victoria adds. There’s a hint of a snarl in her voice. “What the hell were you doing to him, Zhengting? I swear, if I hadn’t walked in just this moment-- you two-- oh my god, have you--?”

And then Victoria slams the door behind her, her hands balled into fists at her side. She stalks up to him, the clicking of her heels against tile a very ominous sound. “You,” she growls, when he still remains silent, completely frozen in place, “how _dare_ \--”

“Stop,” Justin interrupts, placing a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mom, stop, he’s not--”

“Shut up!” she exclaims, pushing Justin’s hand away, “You have no right to say anything--”

But Justin doesn’t back down. He just stands there, his eyes wide, and Zhengting can see his fingers shaking with how nervous he is. “Please, I do, mom, please, just listen to me. Zhengting’s not at fault, he’s never done anything to hurt me.” And then he latches onto his mother’s arm, holding the limb tightly, looking at her with an expression of both panic and despair. “Please, don’t blame him. I swear, I’m telling the truth, he’s never touched me or anything like that. If anything, blame me, I tried to get him to, but he just wouldn’t, he wouldn’t go further than--”

“That doesn’t matter!” Victoria growls, but she doesn’t try to shake off Justin. “Zhengting, how long has this been going on?”

And this is the first time Zhengting speaks. He brings a hand up, brushing it through his hair, and averts his gaze from Victoria. “...Almost half a year,” he begins quietly, “on and off.”

“ _Half a year_?” Victoria exclaims, incredulously. She grits her teeth, squeezing her eyes closed, and rests her forehead in her palm. Zhengting can see her fingers and lips trembling, but he can't bring himself to move. His fingers and toes are cold, his entire body tensed. “And to think,” Victoria begins, through a clenched jaw, “and to think that I didn’t even consider--”

The next second, she pulls her hand away from her face and steps forward, fisting her hands into Zhengting’s shirt, holding him there with a forceful grip as she stares straight into her eyes.

Zhengting is actually very truly terrified now, right down to his core. Victoria’s eyes, they throw him for a loop. He’s seen that stare before, the kind of stare that signifies the rising of a wall of flame, of a blazing current sparking right in the air, lighting the sky on fire. It’s the same stare she had when she confided in him about her ex-husband. It’s the same stare with the fuel and fire of a woman who wishes nothing but to protect her most prized possession.

“How could you do this?” Victoria says, her voice hoarse as her fists shake him. “I trusted you-- I-- I--”

“Mom,” Justin murmurs, placing one of his hands on her shoulder, “please--”

“He’s my son,” Victoria continues, “he’s my son, my son, my little boy, my child… he’s my last family member left, the last of my love I’ve got, he’s the one thing that I treasure the most, and you--” And then Victoria dips her head down, the hair hanging from her ponytail draping over her head like a waterfall of tar-ridden water, shiny and dark and foreboding.

But then Justin rests his forehead on his mother’s back, wrapping his arms her, and whispers, “He never hurt me. I swear, he never hurt me. He’s done nothing to me but take care of me.”

“ _How_?” Victoria exclaims, lifting her head up in a flurry, and looking incredulously at Justin. “ _How_?” she asks again, “He was _kissing_ you Minghao, and it wasn’t a little innocent kiss. He’s violated you, he’s sullied you, he’s--”

“He didn’t!” Justin blurts out, “I told you, he’s done nothing more than kiss me!”

“Then _why_?” Victoria asks, “Why would he do that to you if he didn’t have such… _disgusting_ intentions?”

And then there’s that word.

Zhengting sighs, a sense of heavy dread climbing up his throat. It’s that word that he’s struggled so long with, but never managed to defeat. It makes his stomach uncomfortable, like he’s about to retch, because on Victoria’s tongue, it sounds even worse than when he’s said it to himself. She spat it out like it’s a curse, a vile sort of being, flying from her lips like a plague.

And simultaneously, he also realizes it’s so, so, so utterly defeatingly true.

He’s disgusting, without a doubt. He doesn’t even know why he doubted the fact in the first place.

“I think I love him,” Justin whispers, his voice barely audible, but the other two in the room pick it up easily.

“ _Love_?” Victoria asks, incredulously, “What right do you have to even _speak_ about love? You’re seventeen, for god’s sake, Minghao, _seventeen_! You’re still a child, what do you know about _love_ ? What have you done in life that allows you to know _anything_ about love?”

Justin stays silent for a moment, biting his bottom lip, but Zhengting sees an emotion on him that he’s never seen before.

The boy actually is beginning to _fume_. As in, fume with frustration and anger.

“Why do you think I’m a child? Why does _everyone_ think I’m a child? Why does no one think that I can determine how I feel for myself? How I think for myself? Why does everyone think my opinion doesn’t matter? That whatever I say is invalid simply because of my age?” His words are spat, the curl of his lips a little frightening. His fingers are flexing at his sides, and Zhengting is even more terrified than he’d been before.

“He,” Justin growls, pointing a finger at Zhengting, “he may just be like _you_ , that he thinks I’m a kid too and he sometimes thinks I can’t speak for myself as well, but at least he’s the only person that’s ever even let me make my own decisions, ever even _considered_ my opinion once.”

Victoria takes a step back, staring at her son with a stupefied expression. But then the next second, her features tense even more with a new sort of anger. “ _Minghao_ ,” she begins, her voice cold, “are you accusing me of never thinking about you? When all I do is work and work for this family. Have you ever even thought about my--”

“Yes, I have,” Justin immediately interrupts, glaring, “I’m not accusing you of anything, I’m only stating the truth.”

And then Victoria laughs for a moment, her voice high and slightly screechy. “The _truth_?” she asks, incredulously, “What do you even know about the truth? When all you’ve ever done--”

“And what right do you have to lecture me about the truth?” Justin exclaims, his voice becoming higher as well, “When you’re one of the people that didn’t even _tell_ me about my own dad! And what did you do to him, mom? I know you had something to do with the reason why he’s half-blind now!”

“...What?” Victoria murmurs, freezing. She turns to Zhengting. “You _told_ him?”

Zhengting swallows. “...Not exactly,” he replies, quietly, “I didn’t say anything specific, only that you wanted to continue living with him because you love him--”

“He didn’t tell me anything!” Justin interrupts, throwing his hands up. “I only know anything because I had to _eavesdrop_ on your conversations! When I shouldn’t even have had to in the first place!” He holds his mother’s hand up, placing it between his two palms. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your son! Why didn’t you say anything _at all_ ? Do you distrust me that much?” 

Victoria doesn’t reply. She just stands there, staring at him.

“Do you? Do you, _mom_?” Justin asks again, his voice falling at his last syllable. He takes a step closer to Victoria. “Tell me, _do you distrust me that much_? That you wouldn’t even tell me about this giant problem with _my own dad_ and then proceed to do something that might’ve _killed_ him?”

He takes one step closer, his voice beginning to tremble. “I love you,” he whispers, “even if you think I don’t, I love you. Don’t ignore me. Let me speak. Let me hear, and let me think for myself.”

Victoria still remains silent, almost frozen, except Zhengting can see the slightly nervous shaking of her jaw. He can’t tell if she’s angry, sad, or maybe even scared.

“And please, listen to me,” Justin continues, “listen to me. This isn’t just because I’m trying to make you think I’m not a kid anymore, because I know I am, but please listen to me because I’m your _son_.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, still holding Victoria’s hand. “Let me tell you the story of what’s happened, all from my own perspective. Let me tell you that I’m not a victim, mom, I’m not. Let me tell you that Zhengting did nothing to hurt me, he’s not the monster. He didn’t even want to kiss me at first, he didn’t want to do anything to me. He tore himself apart thinking about this, mom, he really did. You saw him in that horrible state several months ago, where he didn’t even go out of his apartment for almost a full week. That was when it happened. He was sick, but he was mentally and emotionally sick, not physically. But you know what I did? I convinced him. I was the one that tried to get him to touch me, but he wouldn’t go further than kisses, because he’s not a monster, he’s too much of a good person to do something like that. If anything, I’m the monster, I’m the one that tempted him, I’m the one that pushed him, and I should’ve never done that in the first place. If you’re going to blame someone, blame me. Or, if you’re still insistent on blaming him, then blame both of us.”

And then he gulps in air, his breath shaking. “Now,” he begins, his voice slightly hoarse, “tell me your story. And let me listen.”

Victoria swallows, her throat bobbing up and down. “But,” she begins, after a moment, “that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re a minor, Justin. And that in the end, he couldn’t resist.” She turns her head, looking at Zhengting for the first instance in what seems like a long time, and whispers, “Tell me, Zhengting, tell me, do you love him or are you only doing this to please him and yourself?”

“I…” Zhengting begins, and then his voice chokes, “I-I actually do love him. This isn’t just for fun.” He hangs his head, sighing, his lips shaking, and continues. “I tore myself apart for it,” he whispers, “I hated myself so much. I was always wondering what kind of a person I am -- what kind of a disgusting person would think like _this_ about a kid? And I was just constantly… up and down. Between the two places of maybe this is worth pursuing and that this would get nowhere and that I’m a sick person.” He looks up at Victoria, his eyes wide and unrelenting. “I tried,” he rasps, “I tried so hard to separate myself. I told myself to try to love someone else. I tried to get myself to like Xuanyi romantically. I went on a date with some girl Yixuan introduced to me. But it just all failed. I hated myself so much that I nearly drank myself to death several times, and if Chengcheng or Seunghyuk weren’t there I might as well be dead right now. I know that I was and am selfish, I know that now. And Victoria, if anything, if you think you’re the only one that’s been hurting -- you’re not. You’re the one that’s hurt the most, but, in the end, all of us have been wounded.”

Victoria seems to have calmed a bit. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, but her form is still as tense as ever. “This,” she begins, her voice hardly a whisper, “this is a sick love.”

“I know,” Zhengting murmurs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let things get this far. I should’ve been more responsible, done something else--”

“What’s done is done,” Victoria interrupts, her voice steely. “The only thing left now is to try to revert things back to the things they were before. Back to the way they _should’ve_ been.”

“That’s too late!” Justin exclaims, shaking her wrist. “Mom, you’re doing it again. You’re ignoring me _again_. Tell me, please, tell me what you did! Or did you forget? I told you everything I know, so why won’t you? What’s stopping you?”

“Minghao, this is not your busi--” Victoria begins, coldly, but Justin interrupts her anyways.

“ _No,_ it is! They’ve always been! I’m a member of this household too, or have you forgotten? Have you forgotten that I’m related to both you and my dad? _My dad_ , mom! Even if I haven’t seen him for almost ten years, that doesn’t mean that he’s completely erased from my life!” His hands move from Victoria’s wrist to around her face, and he looks at her, his features trembling, eyes large and shiny. Zhengting’s chest hurts, he almost reaches out a hand, but he remembers this isn’t exactly his place for interference.

“Whatever you did,” Justin whispers, “I won’t hate you. I won’t hate you, because I love you more than my dad, and I always did. I _always_ did. You might think I’m ungrateful, or that I dislike you because you’re never home, you never do motherly things for me like cook for me or tuck me into bed to read me stories, but that’s not true. I understand how busy you are, I know you work hard to pay for my school and food and the apartment and things like that. You know why I never visited my dad? Because I knew how worried you were about me. I knew you’d be worried that I’d like him more than you, but I never did, mom, I never did and I never will. So I never visited him because I didn’t want to make you worry even more.”

There’s a long, thick silence in the room as Justin looks at his mother, his chest heaving with his breaths, his eyes still shiny. He blinks rapidly, pushing away the tears that threaten to invade his vision, but there’s still a few droplets gathering at the corner of his eyes.

And then Victoria lifts a hand, wiping them away with her thumb. “My son,” she whispers, “you look so much like your father.”

Justin smiles shakily. “I-I know,” he murmurs, “I know that.”

“I hurt your father,” Victoria continues, “I hurt him purposely because he was such an ugly man. I wanted to make him regret, regret for the rest of his life, but I was didn’t go all the way through with it, because when I looked at him, I remembered that I once loved him. And that he gave me you.”

Justin laughs softly at her words.

“And also…” Victoria sighs, “Whenever I saw him, I thought of you. Sometimes I thought that if I hurt him severely, I’d also hurt you severely. I tried to poison him without killing him. I wanted to make him suffer, but at the same time I didn't. But it all happened anyway because of my selfishness.”

“No,” Justin shakes his head, “no, you weren’t selfish. You only did what a mother should do -- protect her son.”

Victoria suddenly lets out a choked sob, burying her face in her hands. Her will to keep her emotions balled up inside of her is breaking -- the dam she’d built is cracking, and Justin wraps his arms around her, cradling her in his embrace. “We’re a family with a whole lot of problems, huh?” he murmurs. “Even though we didn’t think much of them at all.”

Victoria nods and chuckles sarcastically. She stands there, in her son’s arms, for the next minute or so, quietly sniffling, her fingers dabbing at the corners of her eyes. And then when she lifts her head, she turns and looks at Zhengting.

“I can’t understand you,” she murmurs, “I just can’t. Except for the fact that you’ve probably gone through just as much trouble as any of us.”

Zhengting slowly nods.

“I did everything for you, Zhengting. I would say that you betrayed me, that you stabbed me in the back, but you didn’t, at least not completely.”

“...What?” Zhengting murmurs. That’s not the response he was expecting.

“You’ve taken my trust and broken it in half, but there’s still a part of it that’s hanging by a thread,” Victoria continues. “You’ve done good things for me, too. You’re the one of the only friends that have persisted in my life. So that’s why I can’t believe that you would do such a thing like this -- that’s why I just can’t _understand_ you.” She pauses. “So, what are you going to do now? What is going to happen to all three of us?”

“I’m sorry,” Zhengting whispers, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“Then prove it,” Victoria replies, simply.

Zhengting pauses. _How?_ is the first thing he thinks. He’s already screwed up twice, and the second time around he knows there’s going to be permanent damage.

He nearly brushes off the next thought that appears in his mind. Yet, the way he saw Victoria interact with Justin, he's only just properly realized it even though it's been staring him in the eye for the past year.

He has no place between the love of a mother and her son. He has no place in a family that's survived and built itself on rocky waters, the only thing holding them up is their own quiet support. In this sea, he is nothing but a nuisance, something that cannot persist for much longer without sinking all of them.

At the end of the day, Victoria's opinion, her emotions, her feelings, her thoughts, will always override his. Because she is the mother, but most importantly, she is the _foundation_. The _base_.

“What do you think of me now?” he asks.

“...I don’t know,” Victoria replies, “I don’t know what to think of you, or what I should think of you. All I know is that you’re _wrong_.”

Zhengting nods. “Okay,” he begins, “okay, yes, I am. This can’t go on anymore.” He suddenly stands up. “You don’t want me near him anymore, do you?”

Victoria just shakes her head.

“Okay. That’s all I needed to know.”

“What?” Victoria asks.

“All of us need time to cool down, don’t we,” Zhengting states, critically. He crosses his arms. “I can’t go on like this anymore. I’m going to kill myself before I even start my first day of work. Either that, or I’m going to drink myself to death. I can’t stand the way you’re looking at me, Victoria, and I can’t stand looking at you either. I just feel so much guilt -- there’s no way to describe how sorry I am, how regretful I am, and how much I just want to turn back time and--” he buries his face in his hand, “--I want nothing more than to just fix everything.”

Victoria just remains silent. After several moments, she replies, “...I know.”

“We all need time,” Zhengting murmurs, “we all need more time than there is. So I’m going to ask for a transfer. It's best if I'm just not near him. If I _can't_ be near him _._ ”

“You _what_?” Justin asks. There’s a hint of frustration in his voice. “ _What are you doing_?” he growls. “Are you just going to ignore the problem and run away again? Are you just going to ignore _me_? What about this relationship we’ve built up? Are you just going to abandon everything?”

Zhengting just swallows and nods. “Yes,” he begins, “because that’s the kind of person I am.”

Victoria places a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Stop, Minghao,” she murmurs, “let him speak.”

“I’m going to leave,” Zhengting continues. “I’m going to leave until we can figure things out.”

“That’s not how it works!” Justin cries, “How are you going to be able to ‘figure things out’ if you’re not here? What kind of problem solving is that? Zhengting, what are you thinking? What about me? Not only that, but what about your job and your home and--” he chokes, shaking his head, “please, please, what about me? Don’t you love me?”

Zhengting’s head hurts, he wants to say that _yes_ , he does, and he’d do anything to stay here with him, but of course, that’s not the right answer. That’s not the answer that should be given -- far from it.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” he replies. “Not only because all three of us need time separate from each other, but also because I’m not going to risk my life and my mental health anymore. It's not worth it, and I was so utterly stupid to think it was I'm the first place.”

 _This relationship was debilitating_ , he thinks. There was almost nothing good that came out of it. He should’ve realized it sooner, should’ve realized that it’s impossible to create something out of nothing.

“So you’re just going to run away,” Justin murmurs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Zhengting replies, coldly. He turns. “I’d expect you to hate me after this.” With his back facing both of them, he adds, “Victoria. Are you disgusted with the fact that I’m romantically involved with your son, or are you disgusted with the fact that he’s a minor?”

Victoria takes several moments to reply. “I don’t know,” she says, “both. But probably moreso the second one.”

“Okay,” Zhengting says. “Then,” he begins, “Justin, go talk about it with your mother. And if you don’t hate me by then, you can come and find me when you’re finally eighteen.”

Zhengting walks out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

As expected, everyone’s reactions were entirely blown out of proportion, especially Seunghyuk.

Seunghyuk thought he was drunk when he announced he’d asked for a transfer to Korea University, one of Tianjin’s partner universities in order to do research there. The pay isn’t as good as Professor Liu’s offer, but he has no choice.

His friend had yelled at him over the phone, and then proceeded to yell at him face-to-face the next day. But Zhengting refused to divulge him any details, and Seunghyuk had punched him. Another friendship ruined, but at this point, he doesn't even know what friendship is.

So that’s how he ended up with Euiwoong and Hyeongseop trying to mother his black eye and bruised cheek. They want to know what’s happened, but Zhengting is just so detached, so out of it, that they feel like if they’d even poke him he’d crack into a million pieces.

Well, he both physically and emotionally feels like he will. He’s spent all the strength he has in his entire being on struggling with himself and with his life in general, but it all boiled down to nothing. All the effort he put in was for nothing.

He decides that there is no right or wrong, specifically for himself. Instead, there’s simply beneficial and not beneficial.

Right and wrong, in his mind, has done nothing but cause him trouble.

How can a foundation of life be so parasitic? He hates life now. He doesn’t hate it enough to want to kill himself, but whenever he looks at people, he just wonders, what kind of right and wrong have they done? What have they been through? How many lives have they damaged?

He’s sorry for just leaving everything in a whirlwind of dust.

But most importantly, he’s sorry for breaking himself apart. Because really, it all boils down to the fact that he is the adult. Yet he still retains that mentality of a child, and that kind of mentality is what causes things to go awry, because people can’t navigate this world without a proper grasp on maturity.

He thought he was responsible, but he knows he is not.

He’s still got a long way to grow, and he realizes that now.

When he’s checking out groceries with Euiwoong, he opens his wallet and slip of paper falls out.

Euiwoong crouches down, picking it up. “Oh,” he murmurs, holding it up, “this is Justin, isn’t it?”

Zhengting takes it from his hand and stares at it. “Yeah,” he replies, “yeah it is.”

It’s one of those school portrait photos. It’s an image of Justin, smiling at the camera, his head tilted slightly to the side, as if there’s nothing wrong in the world.

“There’s writing on the back,” Euiwoong notes. “But I can’t read it.”

Zhengting turns it over.

_You might think everyone in the world hates you, and you might hate yourself. I might even hate you for a while, but it’d never last. My mom seems to hate you, but I know she doesn’t. She’s just recuperating. Hate is such a strong word to use, don’t you think? It breeds unnecessarily loathing because it creates so much misunderstanding and so much pain. I don’t agree with the way you’ve left things, but if you think this is a proper way for you to heal, then so be it._

_I’ll see you in seven months._

Zhengting counts in his head. Seven months from now would be next March.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLEEE moly ok icb it's the end of this idr the ending but
> 
> for those ppl that have been sticking with this story until the end thank you so much ,, it's been such a long journey and this is poor execution tbh (honestly ok i have much other better stories) but if you've even stayed despite that idk how to thank you??


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